


Heavy Infantry

by fattington



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Weight Gain, Weight Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:35:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 34,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21761743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fattington/pseuds/fattington
Summary: Two clones bond over their "defects".
Relationships: Original Clone Trooper Character(s)/Original Clone Trooper Character(s)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 31





	1. Bad Batcher

Clone Trooper 1932713 checked that the room was empty before stepping out of the private shower. Really, there should be no cause for abashment where a clone's body was concerned. After all, they all had the same one. Mostly. 1932713 cast one more quick glance around before exiting the stall completely and quickly snatching up his towel. 

Once he was confident the adjoining rooms were deserted as well -he had about 10 standard minutes before everyone else would wake up-, he finally made his way over to the sinks for a quick shave. 

What he saw in the mirror... disgusted him. On any other body the flabby ring of fat around his middle wouldn't be out of the ordinary at all, maybe someone who lead a sheltered life or had a particularly strong sweet-tooth. On a clone, however, it seemed completely out of place, if not hilarious. A defect. What was worse (at least to 1932713's mind) was that it wasn't even that he had an abnormally slow metabolism for a clone. Instead, the problem had more to do with his mind than his body. He'd always had a problem with his appetite which ranged from unsated to soul-crushingly ravenous. If it had just been his metabolism, he would have had only his poor luck to blame, but for him the soft love-handles and beginning of a potbelly were nothing but symbols of his own weak will in the face of his body's insatiable urges. A defect of his mind.

'GRRRRRRRRRGLE' 1932713's face contorted in fury at his noisy stomach, and when he looked up at his face in the mirror, he saw the unusually deep lines of expression around his brow and mouth that had earned him his nickname: 'Grim'. Truthfully, he had earned those lines laying awake at night, unable to sleep for the constant pain his hunger caused him. Most nights he could fight it, others he would cave and resort to the secret stash of rations he had hidden under his thin mattress.

Grim shaved quickly (was his jaw noticeably softer than it had been?) and slipped into his black under-armor bodysuit, grunting as he struggled to pull the heavy-duty material up over his thick butt and middle. He'd have to get it taken out - again - he realized lamentingly. The white plates of his over-armor slid on easily enough, though the plastisteel belt was achingly tight against his abdomen. Clone trooper armor came in only one size, of course, and until now his biggest problems had been with occasionally loosening the unseen interior of his suit. He dreaded what would happen if he were to outgrow the outer plate.

He bit his cheek hard enough to drive the thought from his mind, though even that sharp pain could not compete with the roiling hunger that had been growing in him since his midnight snack. Last night he'd caved, for the 5th night in a row. 

\----------------------------

As usual, Grim was the first one to breakfast and spent the time chatting with his close friend 99, a maintenance clone and bad-batcher. The old clone's body was misshapen to the point where he would be useless in battle, his facial features likewise contorted. Even so, Grim always felt at ease talking to the old clone. It made his own insecurities somewhat easier to bear and besides, 99 was in on his secret.

"I-I'll need your help taking my suits out again." Said Grim, fighting against the blush that tried to steal its way onto his slightly-rounded cheeks. Even 99, who was severely short-sighted caught the sudden reddening though he decided not to pursue the matter further and simply nodded sagely.

"Then I'll meet you tonight at the usual time and place." 99 said with what on his crooked face passed for a smile. Grim exhaled gratefully (though not too far since his belt felt tight enough to pop).

"I don't know what I'd do without you." Said Grim.

"You'd have had to learn to make the repairs on your own." Said 99 simply. "Though I must admit you've been a quick study, which is good since you'll be leaving soon." Grim had almost forgotten - their final combat exam was today.

"I'll miss you."

"And I you. But hey, we Bad Batchers need to look out for each other, right? And the best thing for you is to go out there and fight the good fight. Be the soldier you were born to be." 99's words were sincere and well-meant, especially because within the week Grim would be living the dream poor 99 would never get to experience. It was just that Grim HATED when 99 called him that.

He face darkened thoughtfully, just as the first few clones were coming in for breakfast all suited up for the day's exams.

\---------------------------

Grim's team sign was Gamma and was composed of five clones, including himself. There was Ace, their squad's pride and joy (or at the very least their pride), Charming, who was always quick to defend those in need with his silver-tongued wordplay. Ranger, the calm-if-sarcastic tactician who preferred to hang back in a fight and support with instructions and intel, and of course Jack, the demolitions spec/comm spec/self-proclaimed Chick-Magnet and amateur chef among other things. Of all of them, Grim would say Jack was the closest thing he had to a friend other than 99.

Despite Grim's shortcomings, he was actually a powerful fighter and skilled with a blaster besides. No one could ever acuse him of being soft, as his layer of fat sat on a firm base of corded muscle. Though Grim was not quite as good as Ace, he was content to support from behind where less attention would be on his own (rather large) rear. All in all they made a formidable team and were hoping to top the insufferable Bravo Squad which had been eeking out a steady lead against them ever since they'd left Cadet Training. Today they hoped to change that.

As the team prepped at the starting line in the large Testing Complex, Domino Team was just limping out, one member obviously injured. Grim knew that the team was incompetent, but it still bothered him to see his brothers looking so defeated.

"There go the Bad-Batchers", laughed Ace, toting his plasma rifle on his shoulder. His expression was hidden by his helmet, but Grim could imagine perfectly the shit-eating grin beneath. His fists balled at his sides.

"They're still our brothers." Interjected Charming as if reading Grim's mind, "and they're not Bad-Batchers. If you think they are then you're as bad as Bravo Squad."

Ranger laughed at that. "What I think is you like the sound of your own voice a bit too much, Charming." That earned him a visor-concealed look.

"Come on, Boys. We're up next. Can we please focus?" Jack walked up to the rest of them, smiling with his helmet tucked under one arm. He gripped Grim by the shoulder in a friendly way. "How 'bout you, Grim. You're quiet today."

Before Grim could think of a response, Ace spat out: "Aah, he's just nervous." with a wave of his gun.

"He says to the man covering his showboating ass." Ranger sniggered.

"Well, you know what they tell you about when you've got 'nothing nice to say'." Grim retorted, giving Ace a comradely punch in the ribs.

"Ha ha, very funny." Said Ace, rolling his shoulders and turning to look at the timer where the last few seconds counted down to the beginning of their test. "Here we go, Men."

\-------------------------

The Testing Complex was essentially a big square room bordered by windows and chock full of three things: Cover, droids and flying laser bullets.

Gamma Squad had spent their whole lives preparing for this, and operated like a well-oiled machine. Ace would forge ahead, covered by Grim and Jack. Charming would take out any droids trying to flank them, and Ranger covered them all from behind with his semi-auto rifle and strategic insights.

They made their way through the labyrinth of dura-steel blocks of cover towards the square fortress at the other end of the hall and began methodically taking out the mounted guns that covered the approach.

"This is our moment of Victory, Troopers!" Shouted Ace as he fired off a salvo of bullets into the nearest droid.

Grim tried his best to get into the spirit of things, but his stomach was acting up. Much worse than usual, actually. His breakfast had been meager as he'd been trying to make up for the calories he'd consumed the night before. Now, he knelt stiffly, panting against the exertions of battle, the effort of sucking his gut in and the agonizing hunger that seemed to be getting worse every moment.

Due to his internal concerns, Grim missed one of the commands Ranger had given him and continued straight as the rest of the group cut right. Unwittingly, he'd blundered right into an open area where he suddenly found himself facing down a wall of battle-droids!

"Grim! What are you doing?!" Came Ranger's terrified voice over the helmet-comm. Grim staggered back in sudden fear and then was knocked unceremoniously to the ground just as the first volley of bullets whizzed through the space where he'd just been. Grim and his rescuer slid across the polished floor and then scrambled behind the nearest cover.

"T-thanks." Muttered Grim, mortified.

"Don't mention it, Brother." Said Jack, who was practically laying on top of him behind their small, rectangular bit of cover. "Ranger, we're trapped! Bring the squad around."

"Coming for you now." Said Ranger's disembodied voice.

The sound of blaster-fire filled the air as Grim did his best to flatten himself into the floor. He had the terrible suspicion he may have ripped his under-armor across the seat of his pants in the fall and thanked what Gods there might be that the plates of his over-armor covered that spot.

In the moment of relative quiet that followed, Jack stood up and offered Grim his other hand to help him stand. Together, they made their way back to the core of the squad and re-grouped. Grim allowed no more distractions as he pushed his embarrassment and gnawing hunger away. In the end, when Ace held up the flag from atop the fortress in victory, all Grim felt was desperate relief. That had been too close.

\---------------------

A few hours later, Jack was working with 99 to serve his surprise 'Victory Feast' to everyone in their sub-section of the base, even the higher-ups. The aforementioned amateur chef had been planning this in secret for weeks and had (at least in his own opinion) outdone himself. With what simple provisions he and the maintenance clone could scrounge up, Jack had done his best to create new and appetizing flavors that tasted 'almost' just like juicy ribs, buttery mashed potatoes and succulent vegetables. Judging by the way the clones were devouring the stuff, Jack figured almost was close enough.

Then his eyes fell on Grim, who was staring at his barely-touched meal with what could only be described as a mixture of longing and absolute hatred. And Jack, after the events of the day could imagine the reason why.

When Jack had knocked the other clone down, he'd fallen mostly on top of him. Now usually, there was a bit of room between a clone and his armor to allow the thermoregulating systems room to act. Grim had been solid. No, he'd been practically stuffed into his armor. Jack wondered at this as he sampled a finger-full of "potatoes" from the serving-vat. Then, when he'd helped Grim up by the arm, he couldn't help but notice how heavy he'd been. Definitely strange, though if you took into account the clone's strange habits of showering alone in the early mornings and how he would sometimes leave his bed in the dead of night...

Could a clone get fat?

\-----------------------

That very night Grim slunk through the dark hallways from the dormitory to the maintenance tunnels with two suits of under-armor and his plastisteel belt tucked under one arm. The grey tunic he was wearing would also have to be modified, as even now it was riding up on the curve of his plump belly.

"Sorry I'm late." Said Grim quietly as he let himself into 99's closet-sized quarters. To be fair, it was actually much more space than the other clones got, sleeping in retractable pods so tight you would hit your head if you sat up without thinking.

99 just smiled in his usual sorrowful way and gestured for him to take up a spot on the floor beside him. The old clone had always been very perceptive despite his poor sight and long ago had quickly discovered the reasons behind young Grim's quiet countenance and midnight trips to the pantry. Perhaps it was also a case of 'takes one to know one'.

As such, they had early on met at night to talk and trade gossip, which eventually turned into 99 teaching Grim how to let out his clothes by scavenging materials from other garments. Now, the two sat in silence working comfortably. Or at least, as comfortably as Grim could be shirtless as he stitched an extra length of fabric into his tunic. Accustomed to his own malformations, 99 scarcely noticed the way Grim's belly puddled and rolled as he hunched over. It was nowhere near touching his lap, but it his gut was well on its way to becoming an entity of its own. Grim always noticed, and grimaced as his stomach gurgled angrily, displeased with the small supper it had been fed.

"You know," Grim said softly, "you could have warned me about that 'Victory Feast' today." He air-quoted with extreme derision.

99 grinned. "Jack told me to keep it a secret, and I always keep my secrets." 

He had Grim there. 

"It was tough in there today. I swear the hunger pangs are getting worse." Grim changed the subject. "Not to mention..." He lifted up the torn hole in the seat of his under-armor, glaring reminder of his shortcomings.

"Nobody's perfect." Said 99, not even pausing in his sewing. Sometimes, the Bad-Batcher's incessant good nature could really kindle Grim's temper, and now was one of those times. He dropped his needle and the torn garment in anger and pulled his knees up to his chest, as if to hide behind them. The old clone could not pity him, not when he'd be leaving in only mere days to go live his dream. Still, sometimes Grim wanted someone who would say to him 'Listen, you luke-warm Nerf-herder, wallow in your self-pity all you like. The only one you can blame for this is you. The only one who can fix this is you'. The defective clone's passivity was the one aspect Grim could hate about his old friend.

There really wasn't anything 99 could say, knowing that Grim would remain peevish no matter what. Instead, he knotted the final seam on the tunic and picked up the cracked platisteel-belt. If Grim had hit the ground any harder, it probably would have burst off him right then and there. 

"I was watching today when Jack bowled you over. You've got a good friend in that one. He'll watch your back out in the field, so mind that you watch his in return."

There was a long silence as Grim eyed the belt hatefully. "I know. I will." Came his response.

"Good. Now let me show you something I've been working on. With this technique you can solder more links onto your utility belt and nobody should notice. Maybe you can use it to develop a way to alter your plate armor in the future?"

"Thanks. Though I'm going to make sure that after this, I won't need to alter my suit again. I'm going to lose all this weight once I'm out there in the war and I'll message you back with pictures and everything." Grim's words were determined, but undermined by another wave of growling from his stomach.

"I look forward to it." Said 99, knowing it was what he had to say.

\------------------------------

Gamma squad had been stationed on a forested world called Xelon IV nestled between the mid- and outer-rims. It was a quiet place with friendly, scaly locals, the occasional bipedal predator and two distant suns. It's only real importance to the war effort was the medium-sized plasma mining operation that took place beneath and around their base. However, that was mostly automated and the world was far enough towards the Galactic Core that there was little threat of it being invaded. Either way, the Republic figured it was better safe than sorry.

As 99 had anticipated, he would not be receiving any photos from Grim chronicling his weight-loss. If anything, the placid pace of the base had been catastrophic for Grim's waistline. That, and the fact that Jack had taken full control of the kitchens. The clones who had stationed the base before the new arrival of 'shinies' were overjoyed to finally have someone with culinary skills instead of subsisting on the usual dry rations. (And perhaps, when Grim looked closely at the others when they changed before bed, they had been putting on a little weight as well!)

Grim stood in the communal shower hall naked, a good hour before everyone else would be getting up. He didn't know what would happen if his defect were to become public, but he was sure it wouldn't be good. He'd be carted off to be 'processed' or whatever it was that happened to broken things with minds of their own. He grabbed a handful of belly-flab and yanked at it painfully, as if in doing so he might remove it. Like the rest of him, his belly was tawny brown, and due to the prolonged nature of his weight-gain it was completely unmarred by stretch marks. However, any time he moved it would jiggle a little bit even after the rest of him stopped, as if to draw attention to itself. Grim noticed that his ass and thighs had grown too, broadening out his naturally athletic Mandalorian frame. 

At the sound of an opening door, Grim dove for his towel and ran for cover in one of the refresher-stalls. Panicking, he tied his towel far enough up his torso that the worst of his belly was covered but not high enough as to seem suspicious. Then, as prepared as he could ever be, Grim decided to make a break for where his armor was stashed.

With a calm belying his inner terror, Grim made his way through the still-empty shower stalls and into the main dressing-room. His clothes were tucked close to the showers for just such an occasion, but he would still be somewhat in the open if he needed to get dressed. As he turned the last corner, he came face-to-face with Jack of all people.

"Er, hey." Said Grim lamely, his voice tight as he sucked his belly in as far as it would go. Jack was clad only in a towel around his hips, exposing the hard plane of his abs.

There was an instant where Jack's eyes darted down and then back up again. 

"Hey." Said Jack after only a moment's hesitation, then he flashed his usual smile. "Thought I'd try getting up a little early today. I can see what you like about it."

Grim edged around his friend, maintaining eye-contact. "Yeah, I love the privacy." Grim cringed internally as he saw the implied meaning of his words register in Jack's eyes. However, this was a crisis and if it meant feelings had to be hurt then so be it. "See you around."

And with that, Grim grabbed his clothes and moved briskly to a more secluded area to stuff himself into them.

\------------------------------

Jack spent a long time in the shower, at first simply leaning against the wall with his forearm, then masturbating violently.

He didn't know what to make of these feelings, but something about Grim, especially a mostly-naked Grim had inspired feelings that were not at all comradely and went way beyond anything he had felt before. Jack had been right, months ago when he had landed on top of Grim during the final exam. His friend had a weight problem. Apparently, it had progressed to the point that it was painfully obvious to anyone who might see him out of his armor.

The undeniable line of his gut under his towel, the supple roundness of his breasts and arms, even on top of the thick muscle below. The pitiable, desperate expression in Grim's eyes, so fearful of what Jack could do to him if he found out... Jack came with a shudder and stood there a moment, letting the stream of hot water wash the evidence away.

In a small way, Jack realized that his delicious cooking had been slightly responsible. Even the other clones had been complaining that his food was making them fat. He always gave them the same answer: "I'm not the one who asked for three helpings, you know." 

In fact, as Jack though back on it, the only one not to ask for seconds had always been Grim. However, Jack thought he might now understand why there always seemed to be fewer cartons of leftovers in the morning than there had been the night before. He'd suspected a thief, but hadn't really given it much thought until now.

If only there was some way Jack could let Grim know that he thought he looked much better with his cute little potbelly and slightly-rounded cheeks than any of the other clones did with their rough-hewn, angular features.

Besides, what did it matter if a clone got a little pudgy? Grim was still a top-notch fighter, winning much more often than he lost when the troopers sparred between shifts. Of course, Jack knew the problem. Grim would be labelled as defective if anyone found out, like any other clone that wandered even slightly outside the margins set by the Kaminoans for 'perfection'.

Jack knew what he had to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a story I wrote a few years ago, and I don't know why but it always felt too personal to post. Now I want to put it up so I never lose it :)
> 
> These characters are very important to me, and I hope you enjoy their story as much as I enjoyed writing it.


	2. The White Agent

The little reptilian locals were very helpful if not a little perplexed by Jack's request. He'd traveled down to their nearby village by speeder and had asked them for help. He asked in roundabout ways after certain ingredients to be used in cooking, explaining that it was very cold up in their base, and being such skinny mammals they needed something to fatten them up.

The village chief, a shorter-than-average, blue-scaled creature named Nyark'Thop told him in broken Basic that it would be their pleasure to help, considering all the Republic had done for their world.

Jack wasn't really sure what good the Republic had done here, after tearing up much of the planet in plasma strip-mining operations, but apparently the security they offered against pirates was much appreciated.

The chief led him into a mud-and-twig hut that was absolutely festooned with herbs and animal bones. Jack had to crouch to avoid hitting his head on any of them. Inside, a wizened old lizardess squawked at him, listened to the Chiefs skuawkings and then finally procured a vial of some milky-white liquid and handed it to him.

"Being careful, Tall One. Much potent, says." Nyark'Thop warned, as Jack uncorked the container and let a couple drops fall onto his tongue. The explosion of flavor was... was... 

"Where can I get more of this?" Jack asked, barely able to contain his excitement.

\-------------------------

That night, Grim had sneaked off to his usual hiding place just a little ways outside the base's rear entrance. Here, the only light was from the planet's single, oversized moon and the ruddy glow of the mines below.

He sat with his toes jutting out over the mile-long drop and his knees pulled up to his chest. His helmet sat at his side and in his hands he was holding a leftover carton of 'almost' linguini that he was crying into.

At least, he thought miserably, he didn't have to listen to 99 telling him how 'we Bad-Batchers have to stick together.' With a strangled shout he lobbed his meal out into the chasm and couldn't even hear it hit the bottom. He regretted it immediately as his stomach cramped in incapacitating hunger. 

Pathetic. He was pathetic. He wondered if it wouldn't just be better to toss himself off the ledge and be done with it. Probably wouldn't even feel it from this height. More tears stole down his cheeks as he noisily sniffled. No, he didn't have the willpower to do that, either.

As his blasted stomach sent another rolling wave of agony through him, all the clone could do was cry. There would be no sleep tonight.

\-------------------------

Jack lay awake in bed. It had been a week since he'd learned about the so-called White Agent from the natives and was still considering how best to use it. He'd been staying up a lot, lately, or at least since the incident in the showers. Therefore, he was not surprised when after about an hour, Grim quietly pushed back his covers and attempted to stealthily creep from the room. However, powerful as the clone may be, fleet-footed he was not. Jack listened as Grim tried to suppress his grunts as he pulled on his under-armor in the adjacent room. He smiled, imagining it.

Eventually, it seemed Grim was done and with the soft 'swif' of the auto-door the room was silent. Jack laid there for a moment longer before finally resolving himself and padding out after him. He didn't bother with his armor and went shirtless instead.

Grim was very easy to track, especially since Jack knew exactly where he was going. He held back as light from the pantry streamed into the outer hall, releasing the scents of fresh "cream" and "pasta". The "linguini" he'd made had been one of Jack's greatest achievements with the rations yet, and he had definitely considered using it to test his fattening formula, but he first had to think of a way to shield Grim from its effects. It wouldn't do to have 19 chubby troopers and one obese one.

Jack followed Grim outside into the brisk night air, slinking through the blast doors before they could close behind him. Then, Jack found himself a relatively sheltered shadow to hide in about 10 meters away and then settled in to think about what he should do.

He had almost jumped out of his skin when Grim walked right up to the edge of the walkway and looked down. Was he really so unbalanced to-!? He let out a silent breath of relief when Grim sat down and removed his helmet, staring out at the landscape with an expression of pain and resentment.

Then, when Grim had begun to cry, it was all Jack could do to stay in his shadow sitting on his hands, trying his best not to intervene. He watched the half-finished carton of linguini fly out over the edge, probably to land on some unsuspecting droid's head. He watched some more as Grim went back to his lamentations and then finally decided he couldn't take watching any longer.

"Eh-hem. Hey." He said, making his stand halfway between his friend and the base doors.

Grim spun around lithely, moving quickly despite his added heft. Since the day in the showers, Jack had paid close attention to the care the trooper had taken to conceal his secret. If you looked, his utility belt had two extra compartments on it, and the plating covering his abdomen and bottom had a slightly greater volume than the production-model. Jack had wondered if he'd added extra material at the sides or had simply thinned out what was already there.

"Hey." Jack said again, not having thought this far ahead. Grim's red-rimmed eyes were burning into him with fear and what could only be fury at being surprised. Maybe he was wondering if it would be in his best interest to toss Jack out over the edge like he had his midnight snack.

Seeming to compose himself, Grim stood up with his helmet under his arm and walked forwards, away from the edge. Jack moved aside to keep himself from getting pinned against the base, just in case. 

If it came down to it, Grim would definitely have the upper hand in a fight, being more powerful and armored. The best Jack could hope for would be that he could outrun him. Even that, however, seemed unlikely as he'd heard rumors of Grim jogging his patrols for hours on end. Jack was seriously re-evaluating the intelligence of his plan.

"So you did notice." Said Grim at last, almost resigned. His voice was harsh from crying but he'd be the last to admit it.

"Yes. Though actually I noticed a long time ago." Said Jack, trying to bargain on the fact that he hadn't exposed him even though he'd had plenty of time to.

Grim stiffened. "When?" He barked. Jack could tell Grim was wondering who else might know.

"It's not what you think. It was when I fell on you during the final exam. I..." His voice trailed off in the cold wind. In the chill, Jack was also re-evaluating the intelligence of not bringing his shirt. He also regretted not bringing it because of the way Grim's eyes kept darting to his tightly-muscled abs (perhaps in envy?).

"So. What are you going to do now?" Asked Grim, sounding like he fully regretted asking.

Jack didn't know how to phrase it, but was worried Grim might take his silence as indecision.

"I've actually given it some thought." Said Jack to fill the quiet, then continued more slowly: "I figured you probably think you're defective." Grim's poorly-concealed wince at his words confirmed his suspicions. "I suppose you're probably scared of what would happen if everyone knew. If I were to... tell. I followed you out here tonight to let you know I won't do that. I want to help. We're Brothers, and we're all... a little defective in some way I think. That's what makes us unique. Makes us human." Jack took a step toward his brother, Grim took a step back, still unsure of what to make of all this.

"How... how could you possibly help me?" Grim practically snarled at him.

"Like I said. I've given it some thought." Jack was glad Grim hadn't asked how exactly Jack was defective. That would have included some really awkward explaining. Although, it was safe to say that Jack's defect was the main reason he was going so far to help Grim at all. Now wasn't the time for that conversation, however.

At that moment, there was a light buzzing from the cliff-side of the walkway that was steadily growing louder. The two clones spun to face it and waited, fists raised in the fighting stance that had been ingrained in them since before birth.

Finally, what appeared to be a mining droid hovered up over the ledge and up to Grim. It's cephalic chassis was smeared with what looked like Jack's patented 'cream' and with one grasping appendage it held out the smushed remains of Grim's leftover carton.

"Er... thanks." Grim said awkwardly, accepting it. Jack snickered at the bizarre display and even Grim couldn't help but crack a smile.

\---------------------

Since neither of them was going to be getting any sleep that night, they'd simply gone together back to the bunk-room and collected Jack's armor. The halls were utterly deserted at this early hour which suited Grim just fine. As they traveled back down the halls in silence his stomach was still gnawing ravenously at itself but it was suppressed by a sort of tentative optimism than he hadn't felt... ever, really.

They made their way to the shower room, figuring that the more they stuck to their usual routines, the less likely people would be suspicious of their absence when they woke up. Without ado Jack started stripping off his clothes and placing them neatly in his cubicle. It was only then that he noticed Grim was still standing awkwardly in full plate armor, his helmet in his hands in front of him.

"Ah... would you be able to go in first?..." Grim said quietly, fighting against the raging blush that was stealing across his cheeks.

"Oh. Sure thing." Jack placed his pants on top of his armor and padded off to the shower room.

"Hey." Said Grim suddenly, making Jack pause and turn around. "When I come in, could you not..." Grim had never had to consider the logistics of showering with another person and was even now doing his best to hide the shaking of his hands by gripping his helmet for all he was worth.

"These eyes will not stray." Said Jack with a grin. Well, he thought, at least not while you'd catch me.

As the sound of running water began in the shower room, Grim slowly placed his helmet in the cubicle beside Jack's and only then realized the depth of his anxiety. It blossomed in his chest as a full-blown panic attack, forcing him to his hands and knees and making him fight for breath. What had he been thinking?! There was no way he could do this. He'd never let another living soul see him fully naked before in his adult life. The only partial exception had been 99, but Jack... this was in a completely different category. He'd walk in there and he knew - he just knew - Jack wouldn't be able to stop himself from laughing at the... at the... FREAK. Two tears splashed softly on the tiled floor between his armored hands. 

No. He was a soldier. Maybe he was just going to have to fight a different kind of war. A battle with his own, fallibly human will. Mustering that will, Grim steeled himself and got to his feet, methodically stripping off the outer plates that shielded him from judging eyes and the black, inner skin that had been let out more times than he could say. Each time he'd promised it would be the last. Each time he'd failed.

Well not in this. Finally, he stood there naked for a long moment simply breathing heavily. He would conquer his fears. He would do this.

But what if... the dark voice in his heart whispered. 

He'd gone too far now to listen to what ifs.

\--------------------------

Jack listened to Grim's approach, listened as he cranked on the cold water, then the hot. Then some more hot for good measure. The room filled with steam as Grim hissed at the heat of the water.

"I won't look. You don't have to scald yourself for my benefit." Jack said, still pinning his eyes on the wall before him.

There was a long moment. 

Then, the reluctant turning of the faucet and the steam turned into lingering specters on the slick, tiled floor.

Neither man said anything. They both knew this was an exercise in trust. Trust that Jack would not shame Grim and that Grim would not hurt Jack to ensure his secret was kept, even when he wasn't looking.

Jack knew he would keep his part of the bargain, but he still knew Grim was probably undecided.

In truth, Grim was harboring no such thoughts. He spent the entire time scrubbing himself and staring at Jack intently, watching for any sign that he would move his eyes from the wall. 

It was only after about five minutes had passed that his fears started to succumb to the same tentative enthusiasm he'd felt before. He really was going to keep his promise! Grim could scarcely let himself believe it.

"Hey. What time do you suppose it i-" Jack was interrupted by the sudden 'Swif' of the outer doors. Both men stood stock still, and it was only now that Grim realized he'd neglected to bring his towel in with him among all the distractions.

The sounds of voices were now getting closer as a few early-risers were beginning to make their way towards the shower room. Grim's mind was in a vice.

Being very careful not to move his gaze from the wall, Jack turned off his shower quickly and said to Grim: "Wait five minutes. Then get dressed and meet me at the kitchen."

Then, before Grim could say anything Jack dashed off in full nude.

Jack almost paused to collect his towel, but then realized there was only one. He sighed, but determined that his idea would probably work better with some shock value.

"Hey! Heeeey! Run! Go go go! There's a basilisk in the showers!" Jack's voice came echoing through the locker-room. There were startled shouts and the clattering of plate armor on tile.

"No! You can't stop for that! Don't look you idiot! If you look in its eyes you're as good as dead!"

Then, there were a few more shouts, and then silence. Grim turned off his water, got dressed and waited five minutes. 

Somewhere in the back of his terrified mind was the possibility that he'd be betrayed, that in the end his secret, his defect would be revealed. He just didn't let himself think about it. Instead, he allowed himself for once to focus solely on the unending torment that was his hunger. At least that wouldn't change.

Outside, the hallway took two paths: one straight out and leading to the cafeteria, kitchen and operations tunnels of the base; the left path went to the dorms. Grim stuck his helmeted head out from around the doorway and spotted nobody straight ahead, but from around a bend in the left corridor a little compact mirror was being swiveled around.

"Stop shaking, I can't see a damn thing!" Came what could only have been Ace's voice. 

"I'm just s-s-so c-cold!" Said Jack, his voice echoing around the bend. He was actually going to come through this! Grim crushed his elation under his heel. He'd celebrate when he was in the clear. With that thought in mind, he lunged for the opposite hallway.

"What was that?!" Shouted Ace. When Jack acted as if he hadn't seen anything, the Squad Leader growled and took off down the straight corridor.

"Wait! The natives said you'll turn to stone!" Jack shouted after him. When the only response he got was a derisive chuckle, Jack cursed under his breath, pulled his loaned towel tighter around himself and then took off after their charging Leader.

Grim sprinted through the mostly-empty halls, glad that despite his girth he probably still had the best cardio in this base of layabouts due to his exercise routine. He ducked around corners, trying to throw off the pursuit he could hear pounding along behind him. Twice he was forced to backtrack around areas that were filled with clones milling around in the early-morning shift-change.

There were a few close calls where Grim's pursuer had almost caught a glimpse of him, but he seemed to be slowing down, while Grim was still going strong. 'I'll show him who's defective.' He thought angrily. He slipped in through the kitchen's back-door, where a chef-droid was already preparing that morning's breakfast. The droid bleeped in alarm but went back to its stirring as Grim dusted himself off and placed a finger to his lips for silence.

Thoughts colliding, Grim picked up a filleting knife and an egg-beater, torn between defending himself and pretending that he belonged here. The next moment, a severely winded Ace burst through the door which could barely 'swif' out of the way in time. Grim did his best to look astonished. Under the circumstances, it really wasn't that hard.

"Er- can I help you?" He asked blandly.

Ace's eyes were glazed with exhaustion as he looked around the kitchen for any signs of the so-called basilisk. 

"Soldier. Have you. seen any... Wait. Why are you. Wearing your helmet?" Asked Ace around deep inhales, his dark eyes squinting at Grim's visor as if that would help pierce it.

"Huh? Oh. We're... cutting onions." Explained Grim. The droid gave a series of contrary beeps but Ace seemed too distracted to notice it.

"Huh." Ace panted a few more times as Grim stood there with his knife and egg-beater.

"Shit." Said Ace finally as he withdrew, the door closing behind him with an air of finality. 

Jack had done it. Jack had really done it! Of course, there had been a lot that could have gone wrong, but nonetheless, Jack had had his chance to betray him and instead he'd helped save him! When Grim finally laid down the utensils and took off his helmet, his vision was blurred.

\------------------------

Deciding against leaving the kitchen for the time being, Grim simply decided to help the chef-droid prepare breakfast and he heard no complaints. Now Grim could easily see why Jack put quotations around all of his meals, since what they were preparing seemed more like a thick, orange-pink pudding than anything else. It smelled sweet, but for all Grim knew it would turn out to be "eggs" and "bacon".

After about an hour, Jack strode in wearing his armor, let the door close behind him, and then collapsed against it dramatically. Grim eyed him sidelong and brandished his mixing spoon.

"Did you find the 'basilisk'?" Asked Grim, the edges of his mouth turning up despite themselves. Smiling felt strange on his face.

"We did, I'll have you know. It was a snail-gecko I found outside while Ace was running around like an idiot." Replied Jack as he straightened up and placed his helmet beside Grim's on the counter. He seemed out-of-breath too. "And, it looks like you're the only one in this base who's not completely out of shape." That actually won a short chuckle from Grim, who went back to stirring.

Jack took a dollop of beige goo from the vat and tasted it thoughtfully. "Hand me those spices, Grim. And droid, prepare the protein press. We're having basilisk for breakfast and I've got a secret ingredient." Grinning devilishly, Jack procured the vial he'd received from the Xelon natives from one of the packets on his belt. He swirled it briefly and upended it into the vat.

Next, he carefully explained his plan to Grim out of sensor-range of the droid. Grim went white as a sheet when he heard the lengths his brother was willing to go to.

"But then, you'll be the only one left who's not... Well- you know." Said Grim, his mind still reeling from everything that had happened in the last few hours. 

"No. That would look suspicious. I'm going down with my ship, Brother." Said Jack as he dipped a ladle into the swirling mixture and poured some into his mouth. The taste was meaty, as he'd designed it to be, but riding above and below that flavor was the mysterious hearty-creamy-sweet of the White Agent. It practically tingled its way down Jack's throat, eliciting a shudder. "And by the way." he continued, licking his lips with an expression of utter contentment, "it looks like you'll have to have linguini today. In the future I'll set out a separate, unaltered portion for you to grab before the main crowd comes in."

Grim was at a loss for words. "Why... would would you do this for me? I mean, I guess we've been close in the past but nothing that would warrant all this. Nothing that would be worth..." Without realizing it, Grim had reached out and laid his fingertips on the white armor plating of Jack's abdomen. He felt the give beneath his touch and remembered the subtle way Jack's skin rippled over the lithe, corded muscle below.

Jack didn't pull back from the touch. "It's like I said... I think we're all a little defective in our own way."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to put one of these out every day I think :) It's all already written, but it takes some time to spell check and format.


	3. Drills and Diets

The reaction to the "Basilisk stew" had been resoundingly positive. So much so that some of the men had asked for fourth, fifth or even sixth helpings. Jack himself was helping himself to his fourth bowl, keeping up gamely with the rest. Grim simply enjoyed his "linguini" in the kitchen, feeding the never-ending flame of his hunger for the time being.

After the initial shock had worn off, Grim had started to worry that Jack might end up tricking him by adding the fattening compound to his meals without him knowing it. However, based off the sounds of shouting and cavorting from the adjacent room, Grim figured he would probably know if he did.

By the time Grim entered the main cafeteria, there was absolutely no stew left. Two troopers were even leaning over the rim of the serving vat to scrape up just a little bit more. Deciding not to be conspicuous, Grim avoided Jack for the time being and picked his way over to where Ranger and Charming were laying prone on a tabletop beside their Supervising Commander, a rugged man called Marker.

By way of greeting, Charming elicited a mixture between a hiccup and a burp. 

"How... Charming." Said Grim, not allowing himself the smile he felt come naturally to his face, just in case anyone got suspicious. At that Ranger laughed raucously until he too was cut off by a hearty belch that raised cheers from the adjacent table.  
There was hardly any way of knowing -Grim knew better than anyone- but he suspected both were nursing little food-babies under their plastisteel plates.

"What did I miss?" He asked, letting his gaze travel over the chaos that was the cafeteria. The cleaning droids would be angry.

"What'd you -hic- miss?! Only the greatest culinary masterpiece you'll ever not get to eat! Cuz' there's -hic- None left." Said Ranger, a little sadly at the last.

"Ranger here had seven bowls, the glutton." Charming smacked Ranger in the gut, making the other clone curl up in pain (insofar as his stomach would allow him to).

"Speak for yourself! Charming had six." Muttered Ranger against the pain. Charming merely scoffed.

"Well then. It's probably for the best that this was a one-time thing. I'd hate to see the sorry state this base would be in if this became a regular thing." Said Grim, smiling despite himself.

\------------------------

And so, of course, it became a regular thing.

Jack did decide to dial back the amount of Agent White he'd begun adding to the food, explaining that the basilisk had lead him to a culinary breakthrough that he could very nearly reproduce for every meal. At first there had been no complaints. Even as the troopers on Xelon IV started to outgrow their under-armor to a man, there were no complaints. Only a half-hearted grumbling as they took second and third helpings. 

Once, when Grim had been running his morning patrol as usual, he had gotten curious. Dialing his helmet to a secure frequency Jack had given him(sometimes it was easy to forget that the base's Master Chef was also a lowly Comm Spec) and hoped he wouldn't be waking his friend and co-conspirator on his off-shift.

The dial tone rung a few times, then connected.

"And to what do I owe this pleasure?" Came Jack's staticky voice through the comm.

"I'm curious."

"...about?" Jacked sounded confused and a little peeved at the sudden and cryptic call. Grim suddenly felt a little ashamed of himself.

"The formula. I... want to know how it tastes." Said Grim in as friendly a tone as he could manage. There was a moment of static on the line until finally Jack's voice crackled through. 

"Are you... sure? I mean, if you get hooked on the stuff then all of -this- will be for nothing." Grim had the unmistakable impression that Jack was probably gesturing to his own now-flabby tummy.

"Don't worry, I know you don't know much about my... situation, and I'm working up to telling you, but believe me when I say that I've got self-control down to an art form." Grim had always heard that misery loved company, but it always made Grim feel horribly guilty whenever Jack started berating himself. In times like these, he could only fall back on the old adage: "And besides, I wasn't the one who asked for third helpings, was I?"

Jack's laughter came through the comm clearly, though he couldn't help but notice a hint of self-recrimination. "Fine, you Bastard. I'll see you in the kitchen after your patrol. And try not to jog there, it makes the rest of us slobs look bad."

"Ha. You never needed my help before."

As Grim finished his final lap of the complex, he noticed a ship descending from the clouds. It looked like a sleek Starliner-class, usually outrageously expensive and only driven by nobility and high-ranking war officials. Grim frowned at it as it passed beyond the hulking outline of the complex where the landing bay was surely receiving it. Now was not a good time for a visitor, but Grim supposed it was better that it happened now rather than before the troops started bursting their bindings. 

\-----------------------

"They told me they get it from some sort of flower, though they're guarding it as a trade secret and have raised the price to extortionist levels." Jack scoffed, brandishing a half-liter bottle of the chalky, white liquid. "The little cretins. I'm spending about half the culinary budget on the stuff and that money was little enough back when I was serving half-rate "linguini"."

As Jack leaned across the table to hand him the bottle, Grim couldn't help but notice how he was being careful about over-extending. Jack hadn't let Grim see his body in weeks now but he was sure that things must be getting tight in there if his own experiences were any indication.

"Thanks." Grim muttered, feeling awkward and guilty again. He unscrewed the bottle cap and enjoyed the aroma from as scientific a perspective as he could manage. It smelled like nothing he'd ever experienced before. He imagined it might be almost floral, but that could just be his mind telling him that after Jack's explanation. With a roaring grumble, Grim's stomach came to life at the scent. Years ago, the pain would have had him doubled over, maybe even on the floor. But Grim hadn't been bragging when he'd said he'd gotten self-control down to an art-form. At least where physical pain was involved, he amended. As it was, he was only wracked by an agonizing tremor.

As he stared down the bottle in his slightly shaking hand, he realized that this fine liquid might as well embody the temptation he had spent his entire life rebelling against. He discovered that he hated the idea of it. Still, he decided, he would do what he came here to do.

"Only a drop or two. That's what I put for every helping." Said Jack, licking his lips nervously.

"I got it." Said Grim, burning away his self-doubt with the force of his will. Dipping his gloved finger into the bottle he set the rest down and stared at the whitish film suspiciously. Then, finally, he licked it off.

The subtle-yet-overwhelmingly-spicy-sweet-rich-sour flavour was all that he had expected it to be. And more. If his hunger had been awake before, now it was angry. The spasm of ravening hunger that wracked his body was like nothing he'd ever experienced before. It drove its way through his years of discipline, self-control and splintered his resolve in the sheer heat of it's passing. Grim fell to his knees with a gasp, Jack rushing around the table to come to his aid.

"Hey! Hey, are you alright?!" Cried Jack, though not quite loud enough to raise alarm in the next rooms. Jack squatted awkwardly over his friend, flustered, cramped and utterly at a loss as to what had happened.

It took a few minutes of deep breathing, of Grim firmly locking his hunger down one demon at a time before he could do anything other than writhe in Jack's arms, his face contorted in a mask of agony.

At long, long last he opened one eye, then the other.

"What the hell was that?" Asked Jack, weaving terror and fury into one perfectly dumbfounded expression.

Grim tried to sit up but found he couldn't. "I..." He searched for the words. 

"I'm... defective." Said Grim, out loud, for the first time in his life. He searched Jack's features for any sign of scorn or ridicule and only when he found none was he able to continue.

"I don't feel hunger like other clones do. There hasn't been a day in my life that I haven't been in pain. It's why I'm...." Grim's voice trailed off, unwilling to let himself finish the sentence.

"The way you are." Jack finished for him. "Strong, honorable, trustworthy. A soldier I respect above any other."

Grim's eyes widened at this. Wincing, he sat up, feeling that this was a conversation that should be had upright, no matter how his wretched gut complained. "Respect for what? What have I done to deserve anyone's respect?" Grim's eyes turned hard as he reflected on his life. No notable accomplishments of any sort. Crushing self-doubt and of course there was his...

"I respect you for mastering your defect." Said Jack frankly, his eyes never leaving Grim's.

"I'd hardly say I've mastered it." Grim said reproachfully, gesturing to the fact that they were both, presently, on the floor.

"That White Agent is... a special circumstance. For as long as I've known you, you've done nothing but strive to become a model soldier. Despite everything that life has thrown at you." Jack smiled, glad that he was finally able to speak the words he'd been carrying in his heart. Not all of them, but there would be time for that.

With a 'huff', Grim got to his feet, uncoiling smoothly despite his heavy frame. He offered his hand to assist Jack in a reversal of their one-time roles and was surprised at the added heft of his counterpart when he helped him to stand.

"Hey, Grim." Said Jack as he turned to re-stopper the bottle.

"Hm?"

"You don't think you'd be able to teach me some of that stitching you're so good at, do you? I seem to have -er..."

Grim gave him a smile that showed he understood perfectly. "Sure thing, Brother."

\-------------------------------

Only an hour later, after Jack had changed out of his torn under-armor, all personnel were being called to the Front Hall in the operations tunnels. As Jack shuffled to meet the summons he cursed his own bloody plan and adjusted the wedgie that kept forming. It was one thing to get fat because of your own negligence. It was another thing entirely to do it on purpose. 

He still wasn't entirely sure why he was doing all this, since in all likelihood he'd never get anything out of it. Clones weren't designed to be bisexual and the chance that Grim shared his sentiments was... astronomical. Still, the new confidence Jack had seen in his friend made most of his sacrifices worth it. 

And besides, watching the rest of the troopers waddling around made his own struggles a bit easier to bear.

Once all twenty members of the base had been lined up for presentation, Jack was easily able to pinpoint Grim a little further along the line. He was the only one standing at relaxed attention, instead of trying to suck in his gut in to within an inch of his life.  
'Click, click, click.' The rhythmic sound of trooper boots came into the hall through the main entrance. Supervising Commander Marker was leading a two robed figures at his side. The taller being was slight and feminine, though her brown tunic obscured her curves. This was only the third human female Jack had ever seen (despite being a self-proclaimed Chick-Magnet) and of course he had gotten fat just in time for it. The second, smaller one was a human boy. Perhaps her attendant?

"Attention, Troopers!" Shouted the Commander, snapping into a quick salute. The troops mirrored him. "This is Jedi Knight Bo Kara. She will be whipping you sorry lot back into shape. There's been word that the War is coming to Xelon IV."

There was some fidgeting in the line at this. 

"If you please, General." Marker handed off his command for the time being and the Jedi stepped forward. She was beautiful, as most wielders of the Force tended to be (or so Jack had heard). He also wondered if the rumors of the Jedi's telekinetic feats were true, or merely exaggerations.

Regardless, her fierce, blue-eyed gaze swept over them, sending a chill up Jack's spine. 

"There have been legitimized rumors of a Separatist plot to claim the plasma mines on Xelon IV." She said in a smooth, even cadence with a hint of Coriscanti accent. "Now, you may be wondering how and why they plan to break through this far into the core, but so far we have no concrete answers. However, the Republic believes in being prepared for every eventuality and that's what I'm here to do. Commander Marker has informed me that standards here have become... soft... of late, but in service to the Republic, it is your duty to remain in peak condition, to remain ever-vigilant. Do you understand me?"

"Sir, yes sir!" Came the unified response. At least they had the decency to stop fidgeting, Jack thought.

\----------------------------------

This was going to throw a wrench in things, thought Jack as he sat on the kitchen floor with Grim that night. He was clumsily repairing the tear in his under-armor while Grim was deftly letting out his other suits. Later he would show him how to add links to his utility belt, so he wouldn't have to be uncomfortable during the fitness drills which were surely coming.

"I don't know what I'd do without you." Said Jack. Grim's expression dimmed a little as he heard the echo of his own words to 99 all those months ago.

"You wouldn't even be in this position if it weren't for me." Grim muttered soberly. The guilt that had been sitting on his shoulders since the Jedi's arrival bared its teeth. "You know. You could always stop this, or at least not eat any more yourself."

Jack gave Grim a direct stare. "We've been over this. The troops here are my brothers. I couldn't live with myself if I put the others through this and didn't have to... Agh!" Jack pulled his hand back, hissing. Grim nearly jabbed himself in surprise but quickly put aside his work and knelt forward. The shout seemed to reverberate around the dim kitchen, though he was confident that there would be nobody around to hear it. Everyone was getting some solid shut-eye in preparation for tomorrow's exercises.

"Hey, hold still." Said Grim firmly, catching Jack's bare hand in his own. There was a little red dot of blood, but otherwise nothing serious. "Don't be such a baby." Grim laughed as Jack pouted. With his other hand, Grim scooped out a small daub of Aid-Salve from one of his belt-pouches and applied it gently. 

Jack felt silly letting his friend minister to him over such a trivial thing, but couldn't stop the blush that crept up his face. Maybe Grim wouldn't notice.

"That's not standard issue." Said Jack to draw the attention away from his own embarrassment. "It that one of your -er- extra pouches?"

Grim's silence confirmed his theory.

"So..." Continued Jack as Grim sealed the goop with some quick pressure. "What's in the second pouch?"

Now Grim looked away with a look of utter abashment. "Nothing, really. It's just for extra room." He muttered. Jack raised an eyebrow, becoming more and more curious.

"Fine, don't trust me." Jack folded his arms in mock-offense. He gave Grim a stare that implied he wasn't going to give up so he might as well just tell him.

Grim sighed lamentingly and opened the pouch. There was some crinkling of wrappers as he pulled out two packets of rations. "You happy now?" He asked, his eyebrows drawn together in contrition. Jack didn't laugh, as he was sure Grim expected him to. Instead, he reached out and grabbed one of the little compact bars and started to unwrap it.

Grim watched him incredulously as Jack started chewing on the bland, chalky ration. "I always hated these." Jack admitted, swallowing noisily.

The half-eaten ration bar went flying as Grim smacked it out of his hand. 

"Stop it. Just... Stop. I didn't ask for this. Do you know how much it hurts me to watch you... ruin yourself like this?" Grim snarled. His right fist was leaking a fine powder from when he'd unwittingly crushed the other bar. 

He threw the perforated wrapper away and got to his feet, unable to sit still any more.

"You were..." Grim was pacing now, words escaping him in his guilt and anger. "You have no idea how... AAAGH!" Grim slapped a jar of ration powder off a countertop, sending it with a crash into a cupboard where it exploded, filling the air with a fine, white dust.

There was a long moment as the dust swirled in the wake of Grim's heavy breathing.

"...You're right you know." Said Jack from where he remained sitting. He didn't seem to care about the tantrum Grim was throwing. Grim spun to face him, the expression on his face earning him his nickname all over again. "I'm not happy with my body right now. I've always... always been proud of my physique, took it for-granted as part of my lot as a clone." Jack stood up to match his brother and held him in a steady gaze devoid of self-pity. "But you're also right when you say it's my body. It's mine. Not yours, not even the Republic's. Mine. And if I decide this is how I want to help you, then you have no right...."

Grim looked away solemnly, knowing that Jack was right and hating it. Wordlessly, Grim scooped up the garment he'd been letting out and folded it carefully with the needle inside. "I... I'll have this finished tomorrow. See you around, Jack." Grim said softly, still obviously struggling with his emotions. The bigger man left quietly and Jack listened to his not-quite-stealthy footsteps as he headed back to the dorms.

"Fuck." Said Jack as he dropped back to the floor. In the dim light he stared at the Aid-Salve seal on his finger, furious with himself.

\----------------------------------

The following day was as awkward as it was hilarious. 

Awkward, because Grim couldn't even bear to look in Jack's direction after his stupid outburst the night before. He'd finished the alterations before showering that morning (he had noticed that someone had taken the liberty of installing dividers in the open room) and had left the now-roomier black under-armor out on top of Jack's helmet. The peaceful expression on Jack's sleeping face had made Grim envious, having never had a good night's sleep in his life. However, he didn't begrudge him for it, knowing he wouldn't wish his affliction on even his worst enemy.

The day was hilarious because of the Jedi's expression of exasperation at the ragged state of the troops. The clones were being made to run laps around the base, a feat which had long ago become second nature to Grim, if not tedious. The others were not faring so well.

Ranger was doing exceptionally poorly, having indulged even a bit more than most during the past month since the basilisk incident. Grim was practically carrying him through the final three laps, with Ace supporting Ranger's opposite shoulder and struggling to keep up. At one point they were passed by Jack and Charming who were both breathing heavily. When they stopped to help, Grim waved them on, but Ace gratefully accepted Jack's offer to take his place.

"Ugh... I think I'm gonna throw up." Grunted Ranger into his helmet after a few minutes of leaden silence. Jack was also in poor shape but wasn't going to let himself be outdone.

"Just don't do it in your helmet." Advised Grim, feeling a sharp pang of guilt on top of his already ferocious hunger. They had missed lunch and, of course, Grim didn't have any of his emergency rations.

"Can we- can we take a break?" Asked Ranger, not waiting for their answer before dropping to his knees. Grim took the time to catch his breath, pumping his fist at other troopers as they passed. He mostly ignored the half-hearted insults they tossed as Ranger lost his breakfast right there on the walkway. Chances are they'd be in the same position before the week was through.

"I blame you for this, you know." Ranger told Jack at long last, wiping off his mouth on the back of his glove. "And don't give me any of that 'I didn't ask for three servings crap'."

Jack looked away -definitely not at Grim- though Grim still saw the pink blush that stole onto his cheeks. "Well actually, I have been taking about three servings lately." Jack placed one hand on his stomach for emphasis. "You're right though. It is my fault for putting the temptation out there. I was just trying to make the rations a little more palatable." He lied smoothly. Grim felt the corners of his mouth turn down, deepening the lines already etched there.

"We should get going." Said Grim in monotone. Ranger looked up at him beseechingly but eventually caved and swayed back to his feet, gripping his tight utility belt and swearing.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean that." Said Ranger, letting Grim and Jack slot themselves back under his arms. "I just feel like shit, is all."

"You and me both, Brother." Said Jack, knowing that Grim would pick up on his double-meaning.

\-----------------------

Bo Dara stood passively with her hands on her hips as she watched the pudgy troopers blunder past in their laps.

"What's wrong with them?" Asked her young Padawan, Silfas Malar. The boy had plain features with brown hair and eyes. His mouth always ran ahead of his mind, but he had a good heart and quick intuition. Bo knew that in the child's experiences, Clone Troopers were elite fighting forces, the very epitome of the ancient Mandalore fighting stock. She understood his question, but her look reminded him to reconsider his words.

Silfas looked down, abashed. "I mean," he amended, " why aren't they like the other troopers?" He looked up expectantly, his short Padawan braid jutting out by his right ear.

Bo pondered how best to answer for a moment, watching two clones trot by carrying a third between them.

"This is what happens when you let peace get to you. You go soft, and before long you can't even run." She said this evenly, though internally she was drawing parallels to the derelict Senate back on Coruscant. Peace could be dangerous, even worse than war in the wrong hands. But those were dangerous thoughts.

Silfas' eyes went wide at that as he turned to stare at the struggling troops in horror. It had never occurred to him that such a thing could happen. "But hasn't the Republic had a thousand years of peace?" Bo looked down at him disapprovingly. He squirmed under her blue gaze and dropped his eyes, his question unanswered.

This boy was sharp.

\----------------------------

Lunch was subdued after the harrowing experience of running laps. 

There would be no fancy concoctions from Jack today or for the foreseeable future as the whole base subsisted on restricted rations. Grim stared at the empty wrapper in his hand, his face rigid in agony. Maybe he had pushed himself a bit far by carrying Ranger for so long. However, he felt it was the least he could do considering his brother's predicament was -almost- entirely his fault.

Jack was laughing a little too noisily a little ways down the bench with some older troopers. They were making comments along the lines of how this was 'just like the good old days'. At which point Ace had called them 'dusty old men' and nearly triggered a brawl. At least he would have, if everyone hadn't been so utterly exhausted.

\----------------------------

For the next few weeks the Jedi Bo Dara ruled over the troops with an iron fist. She monitored every aspect of their lives and even went so far as to tear down the dividers in the shower rooms. The only result of which was that showering times became horribly erratic, with everyone trying to find some time where they could shower alone and even then bathing at light-speed.

After a few days of putting it off, Jack decided he was rank enough to fell a bantha and finally mustered up the courage make his way into the locker-room. He now realized why Grim had always showered alone, the revelation coming like a slap to the face. Why had nobody realized his insecurities sooner?

Probably because they hadn't understood. Just like Jack hadn't, until now. After taking a deep breath, he steeled himself and peeled off his foul-smelling armor. It was his only altered suit, so he would either have to wait around naked while it was cleaned (an option he really wasn't feeling up to), or strut around in a perma-wedgie for the next few hours. He grumbled angrily, stuffing his plated shoulder pads into his cubbie with rather more vehemence than they deserved.

Rather than taking a chance at a random time, when he might get caught awkwardly with only one other clone, Jack had decided to shower at the usual, scheduled shower break before breakfast. Only about half the clones still showed up, including the most self-assured or blissfully oblivious.

All of them were sporting soft pot-bellies, riddled with angry, red stretch-marks. All of them were staring at the ground and scrubbing methodically, the usual good-natured jokes and banter long gone. 

And it was his fault. After turning on the water, Jack let it run onto his face and down his back. He felt it cascade around his distended middle and between legs that felt thicker by the week. Then, there was the terrible sensation of jiggling whenever you moved, though at least when he was wearing his now-skin-tight body suit he was spared that embarrassment. 

Still, Jack didn't actually allow himself to look at his own body, knowing that if he did, his resolve might crumble into dust.

\----------------------------

For Grim, an interesting side-effect of the unending torment Dara Bo had enacted was that he was actually losing weight for the first time in his life. His under-armor, which had just been starting to get tight again, was actually starting to feel baggy. He enjoyed the extra breathing-room as he sat in his regular spot on the walkway overlooking the mines, helmet at his side and a filched ration in his hand. 

Winter was in full swing on Xelon IV and off to the East, the native reptiles were all bundled up in their cozy little hovels. To a warm-blooded being, however, it was merely nippy.

Grim hadn't spoken to Jack in days, privately hoping that if he simply stopped contact outright the other clone would see reason and give up on his ridiculous scheme. So far he'd had no luck. In fact, the other day he'd taken a bite of a ration from the new batch (the delivery of which had been overseen by Jack, of course) and had nearly been incapacitated at the flavor of the White Agent. People had been shocked when he'd suddenly collapsed at the main dining table, but then again troopers were collapsing all over the place nowadays, mainly from exhaustion. They'd carried him back to the dorms, said some well-meaning words and left him alone with his thoughts and his pain. He'd noticed there was a packet of unaltered rations smuggled into his pillow.

"I know you're there." Said Grim finally. Jack was not quite as nimble as he had once been.

A disembodied sigh came from around a bend in the walkway, up-wind. Beside the auditory cues, Grim had an acute sense of smell and it seemed that Jack (along with many of the other clones) had been avoiding the showers lately.

"Guess I've lost my edge." Said Jack, a little sadly as he sat down a few feet from Grim and mirrored his knees-to-chest posture. The position didn't last long however, possibly because of the way his under-armor was becoming uncomfortably tight again. 

"You've lost a lot of your edges." Said Grim, resorting to insults as his last defense. He regretted it immediately as Jack lapsed into hurt silence. "What," Grim pushed his offense despite the needling of his conscience, "you don't have anything witty to say? Or am I just not the man you thought I was?"

Jack turned his eyes on his friend, unable to completely hide the rising anger in them.

"I know what you're trying to do, you know. But it won't work. I'm going through with this." Jack's voice held all of the certainty Grim no longer possessed. Grim snorted derisively and returned the stare.

"And so what will happen if the Droid Armies really do land here? How do you think we'd fare? How many do you think we'll lose? This plan... the only one it helps is me. Everyone else is suffering." The emotion in that last word surprised even Grim. He was a man who knew a thing or two about suffering, but internal pain he could handle. Suffering in others, for his benefit... that was a whole new level of misery.

"I think we'll be alright. The men are doing better every day." Said Jack, letting a hint of optimism sneak into his voice. "Even Ranger was able to finish his laps today."

Grim had to concede that one. Though it hadn't helped Ranger that morning when he'd finally been absolutely unable to get his utility belt closed. Commander Marker had marched him out in front of the troops and tormented him as an example. Grim had spent the entire time staring at the ground, fists balled hard on the reins of his emotions. His anger, guilt and pain had burned hot enough to put stars to shame. It was like watching all of his worst nightmares come to life, and having the terrifying realization that some innocent had been forced to take his place.

He hadn't seen Jack's face during the ordeal, however. He hadn't seen the look of horror at what he'd been responsible for. He also hadn't seen the way the rest of the troop's adam's apples had bobbed up and down in fear, terrified that they'd be next.

\---  
As both men emerged from their memories of the day's horrific events, Jack was the first to speak.

"It's only for a little longer." Jack said, as if to reassure himself more than Grim." If the Separatists ever do attack, we should have time to figure everything out." Jack tried a reassuring smile but failed utterly, suppressing a shiver borne more from the cold of his mind than of the air. Between his armor plating and new layer of flesh, the chill didn't bother him in the slightest.

For comfort, Jack looked up at the now-familiar stars. Staring at the endless universe had always made him feel better, even as a boy on Kamino. It had made his problems seem so small, so inconsequential. It put things in perspective: He was a soldier, his job was to protect. Maybe it was just a matter of who he deemed worthy of his protection.

In silence, he looked back at Grim's brooding figure, lit from below by the light of the mines. He felt the familiar feeling of affection seep into him that he got whenever he was with Grim. It was more than that he found him physically attractive (since besides his larger frame he was identical to any other clone), it was the way he carried himself with a sort of understated honor. His need for self-actualization that was so rare among their vat-bred kin. It was the soul inside the clone. The part that had nothing to do with the genetic makeup, the part no science could divine or extricate.

"Something's wrong." Said Grim in a clipped voice. At first Jack was confused, still thinking he was referring to what had happened earlier in the day. Then he realized he wasn't just staring down at the mines, he was staring at something down in the mines.

"What?" Jack followed Grim's line of sight down into the abyss, then carefully popped his head out over the ledge. His newly lowered center of gravity meant he felt much safer with the maneuver than his might have otherwise. However, that gift certainly came with a price. He had been working up to asking Grim for help letting out his suit for days, though he just couldn't think of a way to approach it. Now, he could barely crouch due to his blasted gut and was forced into an awkward plank-position.

There might have been something down there in the swirling fumes. Was that a blink of red light? From a mining drone, perhaps?

"Get back!" Shouted Grim, who grabbed him by the collar and yanked him away from the ledge. A split-instant later, twin beams of red light lanced the space where his head had been. The chasm roared to live with the sound of grating gears and whirring cervos. It was as if some great mechanical beast had awoken.

Jack blinked where he'd landed on his rump, still trying to process that Grim had just saved his life.

"We have to warn everyone. Now!" Grim shouted and hauled Jack to standing by his arm. As a pair they spun and disappeared into the base doors.


	4. Separatist Attack!

Bo Dara's eyes flickered open in the dark. Something was wrong. 

She listened intently for a moment, hearing the soft, steady breathing of her Padawan and the night-time creaking of the base on its two-mile high foundation. Something was wrong.

She unfolded her tired legs from their crossed position (something was wrong with the food here, causing everyone to gain weight at an alarming rate. Therefore, she'd started using the Force to fuel herself instead, for the most part. Nothing could be done for her now-pudgy Padawan, however). With a thought, she activated the lights which came on with a flickering hum. In his pod-bed, Silfas muttered dreamily.

Tenderly, like the mother she could never be, Bo knelt beside her Padawan and gently roused him.

"Silfas. Wake up, it's not safe." She whispered in the now-oppressive silence. She still couldn't pinpoint the source of the danger, but her experiences thus-far had always taught her to trust her instincts. 

"Hmm? What's wrong?" He asked. When no answer was forthcoming, he simply sat up and quickly changed into a fresh-yet-identical set of brown Jedi robes. It bothered Bo when she caught a glimpse of his softening belly, though she knew he was still in fine physical condition.

Bo practically jumped out of her skin when the alarms blared to life and the emergency lighting came on, drenching the room in a deep crimson.

"So I was right." She whispered sadly. In fact, there had been only unsubstantiated rumors that this base was going to be invaded, but she had sensed the truth herself. The planet practically radiated turmoil. At first, she had thought maybe the source of it had been the sorry state of the clones themselves, but the feeling had run deeper than that, and Bo Dara had convinced the Jedi Council to let her stay long after she had learned that the troops were a lost-cause. Now she hoped she didn't regret her decision.

\-------------------------

It was chaos in the dorms as troopers hastily stuffed themselves into uniforms that they had long-ago outgrown. Many were unable to fully clasp their belts and were passing around a much-used roll of dura-tape.

"Of all the times!" Hissed Charming as he bit off a section of the tape and passed it along. He glared hatefully at his bloated middle and the way it bulged in a most unseemly fashion beneath the under-armor he'd needed assistance just to struggle into. For him, the belt was a lost cause and he certainly wouldn't be able to use it to rapel from, but he still didn't want to face whatever might be coming down on them without ammo-packs.

As it turned out, there was nothing coming down on them, but a whole mess of things climbing up. Jack was in the communications room trying to hail the nearby Starfleet for assistance, but was receiving nothing but static in return. Cursing, he tore off the paneling below the transmission console and started looking through the wires. The problem was obvious: they were nothing but a slagged mess.

"You think the alarm's loud enough?" Jack shouted as he pulled himself to standing using the console for leverage. 

From where he was loading his rifle, Grim gave him a look, not even trying to respond over the incessant whooping. Had that been the hint of a smile? Jack hoped it was.

On the main holo-pad, a 3D model of the base flickered to life as Jack fiddled with switches and buttons. The holoimage was noisy but the little blue dots that dashed through the tunnels were clear enough. The clones were taking up defensive positions around the blast doors overlooking the mines. All except one, which was heading right for them.

"Ranger, reporting in." Shouted the Intel Spec. as he rushed to join the two of them. He sounded out of breath and was trying not to let it show. His belt was draped over one shoulder. "What's. -pant- Going on?" 

Grim and Jack had no precise answer for him, other than that they were under droid attack from the mines, that the long-range comms were out and even the helmet-comms were on the fritz. Jack ducked awkwardly under the holo-pad to see what he could do while Grim rapped his fingers on the console, a pensive look on his face.

"Ranger, does this base monitor the mine's import deliveries?"

"Of course! That's practically all we-" Ranger started, but Grim cut him off by turning on his heel and speed-walking to a records terminal.

"Then, maybe there's a clue there." Said Grim, barely audible over the alarms.

Ranger trotted up to join him as endless lists of invoices scanned past. "But we run droid-and-lifeform tests on every package! There's no way they'd have been able to slip past us."

"No, you're right. They'd never have been able to get droids past our sensors, and the mining droids would definitely have noticed something. Even if the battle droids had come in unassembled..." Grim mused. Then his eyes went wide. Deftly, he flipped a dial and scanned back up the list to the most recent delivery of mining droid parts. He didn't recognize the name of the corporation.

"Ranger, what do you know about Tindel Forge Mechanics?" Grim stared at the data associated with the order, searching for anything that might confirm or disprove his theory. It seemed that parts arrived on a bi-weekly basis to replenish whatever failed in the mining operations. However, Grim found it hard to believe that so many replacements were needed. He'd only been down in the mines a handful of times, and it wasn't a particularly dangerous place. It easily could have been staffed by organics if machines hadn't posed a much cheaper and less-unionized alternative.

"Never heard of it." Shouted Ranger, who took over the terminal. Grim stood back and let him do his work. Apparently, although the data export lines were shot, they could still import data from the holonet in a limited capacity. On the holo-representation of the base, sensors were flagging areas of blaster-fire on the outside walkways with little red triangles. 

"I don't believe it." Ranger said softly. So softly that Grim almost didn't even catch it.

"What?"

"It's a distant relation but... apparently Tindel Forge Mechanics is a subsidiary of the Techno Union." There was a moment of silence (aside from the steady whoop of alarms) as Grim registered this. He was right. The mining droids were an undercover Separatist invasion force.

"There! Aagh!" Came Jack's voice from under the console (accompanied by a loud bang). The over-stuffed clone squirmed out from between the wires and deactivated his flashlight. A cocky grin was plastered on his face, only slightly marred by the way he was holding his palm against his bunged forehead.

After Jack motioned for them to put their helmets back on, his voice came through the close-range comms loud and clear. Grim took a moment to appreciate the fact that the alarms were no longer beating against his eardrums like Rhodian war-bongos.

"I've got the helmet-comms up." He said, stating the obvious. "But there's nothing I could do for the long-range. We need a plan." Grim couldn't agree more. Luckily, Ranger's affected cough into the staticky comms could only mean he had some sort of idea. Probably a near-suicidal one, but that was probably as good as it was going to get under the circumstances.

\-----------------------------------

"Helmet-comms are up!" Shouted one of the clones in the skirmish at the rear blast-doors. Outside, the mining-droids were apparently revolting, using their double-barreled mining-lasers to burn their way through the 18-inch durasteel barrier. They had already lost three men after being forced to retreat back into the walkway, having been caught blind-sided by the sudden onslaught from below.

"Keep your droid-poppers ready." Advised Ace, from his forward position near the doors. The metal in the center of the blast-doors was already glowing a sullen red, brightening to angry orange.

"Ready men..." 

Silence. Then a sort of hissing-swiffing noise from outside. The screaming of metallic cervos working suddenly without resistance. The clunk-tap-clunk of metal parts hitting the ground. Then more silence.

"Hey! Open up!" Came a shout from outside. 

The clones were caught between their genetically ingrained suspicion and their knowledge of the fact that the voice obviously belonged to the Jedi Bo Dara. They looked at each-other in silent communion until finally Charming sighed and slunk up to the blast-door console. Keeping his back pressed to the wall, he triggered the opening mechanism.

Out on the walkway, Bo Dara was standing with her Padawan, cloaks flapping in the chill wind. Bo's green lightsaber lit her sharp features from below in an eerie way, though Silfas' expression could only be read as intense relief.

It was then that the voice of a clone came through the comms, the call-sign relating that it belonged to Jack.

"In case it isn't obvious by now, we are being attacked by the mining droids." He explained. "Apparently, this plot has been in the making almost since the beginning of the war, and based off the records we have... there are hundreds of mining droids down there, soon to be up here." 

The clones gulped in near-unison.

"But we've got a plan. Everybody needs to make their way to the landing pad. Seal every blast-door behind you. We're going to let the Separatists take the base."

"What?!" Barked Commander Marker over the comms. "Who gave you the authority to-"

"Trust us. It won't be for long." Said Grim into the comm., the beginnings of a hard smile touching his features.

\---------------------------------

The Starliner-class ship was stuffed to the gills with clone troopers. Even up in the cockpit, five of the armored men sat crouching around Bo's chair as she started the ignition sequence.

Back in the main hold, designed for a maximum of five beings, Ace couldn't help but ask what everyone else was thinking: "You sure this is gonna work?" 

"No." Ranger answered truthfully, crammed in between two other troopers. He suddenly wished he hadn't avoided the showers for the past week. The two men crammed against him wished the same thing.

"But it's all I could think of, given the circumstances." He smiled despite himself. To say that Ranger's self-confidence had been shaken lately was an understatement. After the ordeal in the main hall where Marker had practically flayed him with insults in front of the whole base... his thoughts just couldn't stop replaying the nightmare. 'Fat. Lazy. Incompetent.' He was just glad that his tactical skills hadn't deteriorated as his body had. 'Are you sure you're really a clone? Not a Trandoshan in disguise?' He shuddered internally at the memory, still raw in his mind.

The craft shuddered as it took off. A ship that could travel between stars in the blink of an eye would have no trouble lifting a contingent of troopers, even especially heavy ones. However, Ranger couldn't keep the doubt from crawling into his mind. 'Can you snort for us Piggy? Can you squeal? Or are you only good for eating? Disgraceful.' 

However, within moments they were gliding out through the hangar doors, picking up speed in preparation to force their way up the planet's gravity well.

The craft listed sharply as it was hit broadside by a barrage of lasers, making the untested troopers shout in alarm. The droids had been anticipating their attempt at escape.

Up in the cockpit, Bo's cold, blue eyes widened at the terrifying sight below her: Mining droids were swarming out of the chasm, far more than a thousand. In the rear of the craft, the trooper manning the turret was shooting wildly into the metallic cloud. It had about the same effect as firing a pellet gun into a beehive.

The sky lit up in an inverted red rain.

Both wing-mounted engines were lanced, one of them exploding outright. Some of the beams found their way through the hull and burned through the living flesh of the clones huddled together there, their screams cut short horrifically. 

Gravity went haywire. Walls became ceilings, became floors, became walls again as the craft plummeted towards the forests beyond the mines, trailing a pennant of pale smoke as the engines depressurized in the cold air of the low atmosphere.

Among the havoc and the terror, Grim forced his way through the tangle of living and dead bodies to where he knew Jack to be, and his heart missed a beat when he found a ragged hole burned in Jack's right arm above the elbow. The clone himself appeared to be unconscious, and Grim burned from his mind the fear that his friend might be... might be...

Oh God. He'd been such an ass to him. 

Choking on his own emotions, Grim pulled Jack into a protective embrace as gravity asserted itself again. Suddenly. Remorselessly. Pulling them into the darkness.

\---------------------------

Padawan Silfas awoke feeling a strange pressure on his chest. There was a weird smell in the air too, like burnt plastic and tree sap. When he tried to open his eyelids, they felt sticky, and it was only when he brought his palm up to wipe his face that he learned why: His hand, his arm, his robes... they were all covered in blood. 

With a little strangled yelp he came to full wakefulness and flailed his way out from under what could only be the burnt and mangled body of his Master Bo.

"M-Master!" He peeped, reaching out with a red-stained hand but not daring to actually touch his mentor's remains. He realized that he was still inside the Starliner's cockpit, more-or-less. The plexisteel windows and in fact the entire upper canopy of the hull had been sheared away. Little white flakes of snow were floating in through the gaping hole and collecting on Bo's now-hairless head. There was no body heat with which to melt them.

Silfas sniffled, feeling the tears welling up inside him. He was a Jedi. Jedi didn't cry. But he was also little boy, frightened and alone, and so he cried anyways.

It took a long time, longer than he could say before he finally ran out of tears and lapsed into sniffling silence. As if in a terrible dream, he rooted for a blanket among the intact supply cupboards and, finding one, spread it over the corpse of his Master. The whole time he muttered the final refrain of the Jedi Mantra: 'There is no Death, there is only the Force'. He clutched the words to himself the way a young child might hold a favorite toy as a talisman against the dark. 

Eventually there was nothing more that could be done, and Silfas climbed out through the space where the front windows had been, leaving behind his mentor and the silent littering of Clone Troopers he'd never gotten to know.

Out in the cold air of the forest, reality seemed more real. Tall, straight tree-analogs with broad, fleshy leaves steamed in the early-morning chill. His light footsteps had a hushed quality to them, as if the forest itself was swallowing the sound. 

"Ah! Ah... AH!" Came a sudden voice from everywhere, the trees bouncing the sound around in weird ways. The voice obviously belonged to a clone, though there was no way to tell which one.

Silfas put his back against the still-warm hull of the ship and made his way silently along the contour of a smoking engine until three troopers came into view. One of them, a clone with slightly-shaggy hair and a laser-wound to the arm was leaning against a tree and being ministered to by another, helmeted clone. A third clone was sitting up against another trunk with his helmet in his hands and his eyes staring at nothing in particular. There was a nasty gash that extended from his left cheekbone and into his hairline. The ugly wound bisected the tattoo of a playing-card Spade.

"Stop being... such a... baby." Said the helmeted clone as he started cutting off the sleeve and glove of the shaggy-haired clone with a pair of medical scissors from the ship's first-aid kit. Silfas thought he saw the ghost of a smile pass over the injured trooper's face, though he must have imagined it.

"You know... me - AGH! Damnit that hurts!" 

"Sorry. Sorry. Never was cut out to be a Med Spec." The helmeted trooper sounded contrite. As if somehow this was his fault.

As the clone dug in the med-kit for something else, the Shaggy-haired trooper's eyes turned to look at the other clone with the head-wound. Silfas pulled back behind the rim of the engine, terrified that they would spot him, though for no reason in particular.

"How're you holding up over there, Ace?" Asked the shaggy-haired one, or at least that's what Silfas thought. He still couldn't really tell their voices apart. There was a moment of silence before the obviously-concussed trooper responded.

"Like shit, Brother." 

That made the first clone break out laughing, though it quickly degenerated into a hoarse, wracking cough.

Silfas peeked out from behind the craft again. The back of the injured trooper's hand was covered in blood he'd just coughed up. That couldn't be good.

"Oh, shit." The clone said simply, looking at the blood like he had no idea how it'd gotten there. The helmeted one pulled a few rolls of bacta-gauze and a bottle of antiseptic out of the kit. He nearly knocked the bottle over, as Silfas sensed a palpable wave of terror roll through him in the Force. The Padawan blinked, trying to understand why the fear he felt emanating from the helmeted clone at the sight of that blood went so far beyond that which he had felt before between other troopers.

"Hold still, now. And Ace, don't you dare fall asleep on us. I'm coming to help you once I've got Jack patched up."

The only response he got from this 'Ace' was a dull affirmatory grunt. 

Then, the helmeted soldier doused his comrade's open wound in the antiseptic, making the raw-red flesh bubble and eliciting a sustained hiss from the trooper, leading to more coughing of blood.

"It's okay. You're gonna be fine. I think- I think you might have cracked some ribs, though. I'll... have to remove your armor to check." The way the helmeted trooper said this confused Silfas. It was almost as if he was as distressed about the idea idea of removing his friend's clothing than he was about the possibility of a punctured lung. The sudden blush that leapt up into the cheeks of the clone called 'Jack' confirmed the Padawan's suspicions.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Asked Jack, obviously pretending that he wasn't absolutely terrified at the prospect.

The helmeted clone said nothing as he disinfected the scissors again and began snipping delicately through the hinges of his friend's armor with a solemn air. 

Silfas didn't know exactly when he'd started referring to the two as 'friends' instead of comrades, but he knew it to be true just as he knew the Force was infinite.

\-------------------------------

Jack looked away as Grim pulled off his dented chest-plates and unclasped his utility belt. It hurt too much to suck in his stomach and he could feel it pressing against the folds of his under-armor in an unattractive way. The flush in his cheeks deepened as he kept his eyes riveted on the snow falling through the swaying canopy above.

Grim's usually dexterous hands were stiff with cold and fear, dreading that he might find some damage that he could not repair, that he might lose his best friend even after everything they'd gone through together. What if? But now was not the time for clumsy fingers.

As he jimmied off Jack's abdominal plates as delicately as he was able, Grim was shocked to see the extent of the changes his brother's body had undergone. Where once streamlined muscle had run straight and hard as a board, thick rolls of fat puddled up against the durable under-armor material. Jack's belly strained against its black casing and Grim felt his guilt slap him across the face. Beneath his helmet, he bared his teeth in anger at himself, for allowing his friend to to do this for his benefit.

Jack must have heard his sharp intake of breath as Grim saw his eyes steel over in pain that had nothing to do with his injuries. "Do it." He demanded, brooking no argument.

Grim swallowed nervously and began cutting at the fabric from below the armpit where it was loosest. Jack's ballooning sides and stomach appeared eager to escape their prison, practically tearing the already compromised fabric of their own accord.

As Grim peeled back the black material, he was met by a riot of purple-yellow bruises on a battlefield of red stretch-marks. Underneath them, the puffy, dough-like consistency of Jack's flesh clashed with Grim's conception of what a clone trooper should be. What Jack had been. Until... Until... Focusing on breathing evenly, Grim set to work. Every clone was trained in treating acute trauma, at least until a specialist could take over. Grim focused on that training now, working as gently as possible. 

Once, however, while Grim was probing Jack's ribs he had hit a sore spot, making the injured clone jump and automatically bring his eyes to the source of the pain. Jack's eyes went wide, then he screwed them shut against the vision of his ruined body and let out a low moan like a wounded animal, his head rolling back against the trunk he was leaning against. Grim's vision swam and his breathing took on a harsh, rasping quality. Blinking his eyes clear, Grim continued his work.

\--------------------------

Silfas could watch no more. He knew he had to help, but he knew nothing of Jedi healing techniques beyond the most simple of abilities. Still, he knew where his duty lay.

"Uhm." He cleared his throat, stepping nimbly out from behind the ship's remains. The helmeted clone's head snapped up at the noise. He swiveled around and drew his blaster in one smooth motion, leveling the barrel at Silfas' blood-spattered chest.   
The Padawan resisted the urge to draw his lightsaber and lifted his hands palms-forward in the universal symbol for 'I mean no harm'. 

"You're the Jedi's..." Said the clone, recognition dawning. He lowered his weapon but didn't holster it, Silfas noticed.

"Her Padawan." He said, aiming for confidence, though he was betrayed when his voice cracked. His mouth snapped closed in embarrassment. 

He also didn't allow himself to consider the fact that he wasn't her Padawan anymore.

"Can you- help him?" Asked the clone, a hint of uncertainty in his clipped tone. 

"I..." Silfas began, about to say that he would try. Then he remembered the lesson Master Yoda had drilled into him back at the temple: "Do or do not, there is no try." 

"I will." He said, finally.

The helmeted clone removed his helmet, revealing a deeply-lined face and close-cropped hair that reminded Silfas of some of the older Commanders he'd seen on the front lines. That is, except for the way the rounding of his cheeks lent a softness to what would have otherwise been a very fierce visage. So this is the one they were calling 'Grim'. Grim's eyes were red-rimmed and beseeching as he let Silfas past, though the Padawan could still sense him as a potential threat in the Force, fiercely protective of his injured friend.

The other clone was a mess, alright. His pudgy, bruised and scarred body had definitely sustained some internal damage, but Silfas knew it was nothing the Force couldn't handle. If only he could open himself up to it. He sat on his knees, one hand out towards Jack's chest, as if reaching for something he couldn't feel. Self-doubt blossomed in his mind as he sensed bone jutting into the casing of the clone's lungs, one false move could... No. The Force would show him the way.

With an extreme effort of concentration, Silfas cleared his mind as he'd been taught. He looked at every emotion he felt: Grief, anger, guilt over his Master's death. Fear for the future, for his survival. Fear for the life of this trooper. Fear for what his friend might be driven to if he didn't succeed. Fear that even if he did succeed with this one, they would still lose the other - Ace - to his injuries.

He looked at all of these things. He stacked them neatly and put them aside for later, when they would be useful. Right now he needed to be empty, so the Force could act through him.

He waited. Waited. Breathed in, breathed out.

His reaching fingers felt it first, the slight tingle that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. The texture of the warp and weft of the thing that binds all life together. The strength to fulfill and preserve. He could feel it, like he never had before. The Force flowing through him. Absolute serenity.

\--------------------------------

When Ranger regained consciousness he found himself in the upper limbs of a tree. His shoulder hurt abominably and there was something wrong with the angle of his left knee, but judging by the trail of decimated trunks and snapped branches that led off to the eastern horizon... he deemed himself lucky. 

The first of Xelon IV's pale suns was just peeking up over the treeline, turning the snow-flecked fog that hovered above the canopy a pinkish hue. The column of smoke that Ranger could only imagine was attached to the fuming wreckage of their ship was outlined in a pale violet. He sighed expansively (glad not to be constrained by his damn belt for once), letting his head sink back into its cradle of leaves.

He'd have to think his way out of this one, he decided. He grinned. 

\--------------------------------

Grim placed a gloved hand on Jack's once-injured bicep to assure himself that he was still real. The tender-looking pink-brown skin that had grown before his very eyes to cover the bone-deep and cauterized wound seemed natural enough... but Grim knew better than to believe in miracles.

Jack himself had passed out within moments of the healing process, (very nearly sending Grim into a panic) but now was sleeping like a baby. Well, if a baby could snore like a vibro-saw.

Grim's mouth twisted, however, when he saw that although Silfas had removed all evidence of bruising from his friend's bloated abdomen, he could do nothing about the jagged, red stretchmarks that circumscribed it. Grim quashed the absurd notion that Silfas could have healed them and simply chosen not to, but he recognized that the idea that a Jedi would be so cruel was born only from his own self-pity and anger. 

He had heard Bo Dara say that the Force worked in mysterious ways, and maybe there was a Jedi lesson in this somewhere. Whether it was for him or for Jack, Grim couldn't say. Maybe it was for them both.

Grim watched Silfas working on Ace's battered head in silence for a moment before getting to his feet and going to see what supplies could be found in the wreckage, leaving his helmet beside Jack's sleeping body. 

Of course, Grim dreaded what he would see inside, but he had been bred to have a survivalist nature, so survive he would.

Inside was much worse than he'd imagined. Half the fuselage was simply missing along with an entire wing and engine. Bodies littered the interior, twisted and broken. He recognized Charming by the three deep scores on his helmet, compliments of an old training accident. 

Grim threw up noisily when he realized his head was facing the opposite direction as the rest of him.

It took him another few minutes to regain his composure and still the terrified shaking in his extremities. His mind automatically started searching for any signs of Ranger, but then he caught himself and decided it would be better if he didn't know. 

Picking his way through the bloody mess, and covering his nose with his forearm against the metallic tang of blood, Grim finally found the storage compartments in the neck of the craft between the cockpit and the hold. It seemed that someone had already gone through them, since a pile of blankets had spilled out of one and was now piled atop a dead clone's helmet.

Not trusting himself to remove the bottom blanket and reveal the dead man's identity, Grim scooped the rest up and rooted in the other cupboards for a few moments. His stomach cramped happily when he discovered a stash of probably-stale ration bars but he wasted no time in unfolding one of the coarse blankets and folding the foodstuffs safely into it.

Pausing in his work, Grim looked around the cabin for any sign that someone was watching. Then he quickly unwrapped two of the bars and shoved them in his mouth, hating himself for his own weakness.

That was when he heard the moaning. Nearly choking on his half-swallowed rations, Grim spun around to watch the cabin. He quickly rubbed the remaining crumbs out of his stubble and unholstered his rifle from its place across his back. Grim's imagination had no difficulty embellishing his already gruesome surroundings. Walking corpses sprang to mind.

"Mmmmh... Mmhey?" The voice (of a clone, no less) seemed to be coming from the region of Grim's feet. He removed his finger from the blaster's trigger in case he should accidentally fire if he was startled.

A moment later, Grim was glad he had done so when the arm of the corpse at his feet stretched out and grabbed him by the ankle.

"Yeeeagh!!" He cried, tripping backwards over the rations and onto another corpse. In a moment of blind panic, he scrabbled in a crab-walk backwards, his plastisteel boots catching little purchase on the blood-slicked floor. To Grim's horror the corpse from under the final blanket, the one he'd been too afraid to remove, was beginning to kick and flail.

Then, displaying the intelligence one would not expect in a walking corpse, the armored body grasped a handful of cloth and pulled it aside. It rolled awkwardly onto its stomach and shakily got to its knees before falling backwards again. 

"Oof." Said the perhaps-not-quite-so-undead-clone. The finely stenciled vertical green line over the trooper's right visor marked him as Dodger, one of the older clones. Grim had always felt bad for him on account of his unoriginal name. However, maybe his dodging skills extended to Death as well, so it couldn't be so bad. From the way Dodger moved, Grim didn't think he'd been seriously injured, if encumbered slightly by his tight utility-belt.

Grim didn't know whether to laugh or cry in relief and so the sound he made was a little of both. Remastering himself, he waded over to Dodger's side again as the older clone removed his helmet.

The lives of clones were abbreviated, since they probably wouldn't know what to do with themselves after the war was over. Grim didn't like to think about it much. The trooper before him had greying hair despite being only ten years into adulthood but was well known at the Xelon IV base for being kind and optimistic.

"Gave you a start there, did I-" Dodger began, then he seemed to register just exactly where he was. What had happened. His pupils dilated in horror.

"Hey hey hey." Said Grim, rushing forward before the other clone could go into a full-blown panic. The last thing they needed would be someone screaming hysterically to draw the mining-droids after them. Dodger was already hyperventilating. 

Although it felt unnatural to Grim, he drew his terrified brother into a tight embrace and muttered reassuring noises to him as he slowly, slowly came back to himself. It felt unusual to be consoling someone else for once.

Relieved when he could finally pull back, Grim grabbed the older clone by his shoulders and asked: "Are you alright? are you hurt anywhere?"

Dodger's eyes took on a glazed aspect as he considered that, then he passed out.

"Peachy." Muttered Grim as he steeled himself to carry the indisposed trooper out to join the others. However, not before he scarfed down another three ration bars. He needed the energy, he told himself. His viciously hungry stomach agreed.

\-------------------------------

Outside, Silfas lay on his back feeling utterly drained after treating Ace and sending him off to sleep as well. To keep himself awake he preoccupied himself by trying to guess which of the falling snowflakes would land on his nose. It was a lot like anticipating blaster bolts, so he was usually right.

He turned his head at the sound of heavy boots crunching in the now frost-covered ground to see Grim approaching with another clone in a green-marked helmet slung over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. In his other arm he carried a bundle of blankets and other supplies. He must be very strong, thought Silfas. He pondered how that could be if all the clones were genetically identical but his thoughts were interrupted when Grim tossed him a folded blanket that fell squarely on his face.

Sighing, Silfas brought himself up to a sitting position and listened to the complaints of his energy-sapped body. He patently ignored them and got to his feet.

As Silfas checked the new survivor for injuries, he couldn't help but watch Grim as he stomped back over to where Jack was still sleeping noisily. He watched as the trooper carefully bundled his friend up in at least three layers of blankets and then laid him down with his head on another blanket for a pillow. He watched in slight puzzlement as Grim tenderly brushed Jack's fuzzy mop of hair out of his eyes and looked down at his sleeping face with an expression of consternation.

"W-what happened?" Asked the man inside the helmet whom Silfas was supposed to have been focusing on. Grim's head snapped up a split second before Silfas could avert his eyes and look back at his patient. He didn't sense any serious injuries other than a fairly nasty bump on the head, so he didn't see the point in withholding the truth.

"We crashed." Silfas said simply, his eyes locked on the approximate location of where he assumed the clone's eyes would be under his visor.

"We..." The clone tried to sit up but fell back to his prone position as Silfas started unfolding the blanket Grim had given him. It wasn't big enough to cover all of the 6-foot-tall clone but the Padawan figured that his armor would keep him warm from the knees down as he did his best to tuck the edges of the blanket around his torso. Then, sensing one last bit of discomfort, Silfas reached inside the folds of cloth and undid the clone's unusually tight utility belt. The trooper's relieved exhalation came out staticky through the helmet's voice-modulator.

"Now rest." Said Silfas softly as he sent his patient back to sleep with a gentle nudge from the Force.

Now it was just him and Grim, he realized blearily through a haze of exhaustion. It surprised him to find that the concept made him feel slightly uncomfortable. At the very least his sleepiness must have registered on his face, because as Grim settled down on a stump that had been clean-shorn by the Starliner's crash, he told Silfas that he would keep watch, and that he should get some shut-eye.

Once again, the idea of letting this unusual clone watch over them made Silfas uneasy, but his body was so tired, he could only nod.

"Sure thing." He muttered, before falling asleep on his patient's chest.

\---------------------------------------

Ranger descended the tree slowly, straddling his utility belt between his legs and using that to rappel. However, he descended the last few meters of in a sort-of-controlled fall as the line suddenly ran out, knocking his broken leg so hard he had to scream with the butt of his hand clenched between his teeth for a good minute. Then, after rocking back and forth in agony on the frosted ground for another couple minutes, Ranger checked the cast he'd made out of plastifoam from his utility belt and the tree's unusually spongy leaves for damage. Satisfied that it would hold, he awkwardly slid on his back over to where he had thrown a particularly sturdy branch he'd sawed from the canopy. He propelled himself with his good right leg and arm. His left arm, having been dislocated in the crash, he tucked into the sling of his utility belt. Although Ranger knew how to relocate an arm, he just wasn't feeling up to it right now, even if he could produce the leverage. 

For the time being, he was more content to slide on his slick armor over the snow-dusted ground like a flightless ice-bird. He was certainly fat enough to be one, he thought ruefully. Useless. Lazy. 

No! He wasn't useless or lazy, he decided while he used his impromptu walking stick to flip onto his side so he could position his good leg beneath him. He was clever enough to get himself down 100 meters of slick bark with a broken leg and dislocated shoulder! He gritted his teeth in anger at their small-minded Commander. What right did he have, saying those things about him? They were brothers, after all.

Once Ranger felt (relatively) comfortable, he slowly lifted himself to standing while balanced on his one good leg. Doing so, he found himself actually thanking Bo Dara for her ridiculous strength-training drills - against all improbability.

Feeling thusly self-righteous, the clone now found himself facing a new conundrum: Should he try to make his way to East to the crashed ship where he may-or-may-not find survivors, or should he anticipate any survivor's potential behavior and head towards the base in hopes of regrouping?

After standing there for a few minutes, shivering and weighing his options, a third choice came to light. Ranger made a satisfied grin at the forest in general, gauged the relative positions of the suns, the smoke from the crash and the steam from the mines to the West, and then started off due North.

This was his best bet, he thought, but boy was it going to be a long walk.

A long hop. Whatever.

\-----------------------------------------------

Grim returned to his stump after tucking the young Jedi into the last of their blankets and replacing Ace's helmet to protect him against the chill. He felt almost overwhelmingly tired, but the ravenous burning of his hunger would allow him no sleep for the foreseeable future. It seemed that the excitement of the past several hours had re-awakened its fury, and Grim couldn't even remember a time when it had been so terrible. 

He closed his eyes tightly against the pain, and against the memory of Jack seeing his own body and the way he'd hated it. It was as if it had been the first time he'd really taken a good look at himself. Perhaps it was. He screwed his eyes shut even tighter under his hands at the memory of the way Jack had moaned in agony and how Grim had hated himself. As if closing his eyes could protect him from what was already inside his head. 

Eventually, Grim returned to himself and uncovered his eyes, finding his gloved palms wet. He really was pathetic. Pulling his knees up to his chest, Grim turned his head to look at Jack where he slept peacefully in his cocoon of blankets. The idiot had apparently tried to roll over in his sleep and was now getting a face-full of cold dirt, his expression almost obscenely blissful given the situation. Grim could only sigh in exasperation. He tried to find the bright side of all this, though it was difficult for him.  
Smirking, he supposed that the bright side was that they were still alive. That had to count for something, he supposed. That, and at least there were no... Grim stopped himself before he could think what he had been about to think, suddenly superstitious that thinking it might call his fear into being. 

When a few moments later Grim heard rustling in the snow-dappled undergrowth behind him, he decided he really wasn't cut out for being right, since he really, really hated it when he was.

\---------------------------

Jack had been having a good dream for the first time in as long as he could remember. There were girls, lots of girls, and he was slim and beautiful again, and they all wanted him. 

The war was over and he was free. The Republic had given him a small fortune in payment for his brave and honorable services and now... Now he could actually live. No worries about invading Separatists, or endless Jedi fitness drills. He had bought a small planet with his severance pay. Nothing extravagant, of course, but just right, considering all he'd done for the good of the galaxy.

In the dream, his world was lush and warm and all he saw before him: The inviting ocean, pleasantly lapping against white sands, the beautiful mansion where he could have parties every night, the not-too-wild jungle where even the fiercest creature was mainly good for a brisk hunt of an early morning. All of it was his.

And there, best of all, as the sun began to set was Grim, standing on the beach with the moon rising behind him. He was still wearing his trooper armor but was clutching his helmet in front of him as if he was nervous about something. Had nobody told him the war was over yet? Jack would have to break the good news to him, he thought, smiling. Looking out across the darkening waters, Grim wore his familiar serious expression that shadowed his eyes and suited his face so well.

Jack trotted up across the sand then, and as Grim turned to watch him, the corner of his mouth turned up in welcome. Jack was only wearing a towel across his hips, but the ocean breeze was warm and now that the war was through they could do whatever they wanted.

Grim took the news in stride, though Jack could tell he was suspicious. After all, that was his nature. Jack told him not to worry, told him that he loved him exactly as he was and that he would do anything to prove it to him. He could tell Grim's resolve was beginning to crack, so Jack took his opportunity to steal a kiss -his first kiss-.

At first Grim resisted, but after a moment accepted it, letting Jack do whatever he pleased, since he was a free man now, after all.

As Jack pulled back, Grim seemed abashed at what he'd done. Confused. Jack took Grim's gloved hands in his own bare ones and deftly pulled the armor off, letting the white plates fall into the waves of the rising tide. He pulled off his shoulder-plates next, and then his utility-belt splashed into the water.

Grim was growing concerned now, not wanting to be exposed. He backed away. Jack locked eyes with him and stepped forward, closing the distance. He stepped forward again, bringing them chest-to-chest. Jack reached around the larger man and undid the clasps that held his body-armor together. They too were swept away.

Now Jack could see the shape of him. His under-armor wasn't skin-tight, but it was enough. Grim's eyes flickered away, angry. He stepped away again but Jack caught his hand, bringing their eyes together again.

Jack's slim fingers made their way to the zipper on the front of his under-armor, tucked under the fold of the fabric. But then, just as he'd been about to pull on it, Grim turned away, letting go of his hand.  
The water swirled up around him, smothering him. It was cold as it hit his face, and hard.


	5. Try Again

Ace had been up for a while now, woken by the overpoweringly delicious scent of... roasting meat? He sighed internally, thinking he must have gone to Heaven, or Valhalla, or wherever the hell dead clones were supposed to go to. He surprised himself when he realized he wasn't nearly as upset about this as he'd thought he'd be.

His body seemed to be propped up against something as he tested his limbs to make sure they were all there. Also, it seemed he was still in his armor - probably Valhalla, then.

"Urgh." Ace grunted, mustering all his feeble strength to lean forward. He opened his eyes.

The light that rushed in was almost too much for him, lancing his sensitive retinas and making the entire right half of his head feel like it was going to explode. He groaned and fell back against... whatever it was he was laying against and tried to remember how he'd gotten here. His memories were a sodden haze, full of shouting, alarms, the reek of fear and... That's right. They'd crashed.

This time, when Ace squinted into the light, he was prepared for the pain. The visual integrator of his helmet made the clearing stand out in stark detail, from the fiery red-purple of the evening sky, bisected by the smoke still belching from their crashed ship, to the campfire that was now roaring in the center of the camp. Damnit. Still alive.

"Hey. You awake?" Came a voice from just beside his head. With a jolt that made his bloody skull feel like it'd been infested with angry Psych-worms, Ace twisted and fell over. He tried to brace his fall, but his body was too uncoordinated to manage it at the moment.

"Damnit. Yessss." He hissed as he struggled to get his limbs underneath him.

"He alright?" Came a clone's voice from towards the campfire.

"Yeah, but he's still hurting." The first voice (not clone?) responded tenderly. The second voice gave no response to that.

Mustering his strength, Ace found his way to his knees and removed his helmet. The chill air that rushed in to greet him felt nice on his aching skull, though his left cheek felt strange, almost tight. He pushed the heels of his palms into his eyes for a moment and then finally decided it was about time he started putting this puzzle together.

The dark, hovering shape in front of him resolved into the form of Silfas, the little Jedi that hellbeast Bo Dara always dragged around. Ace gave him his best introductory grin-sneer.

"Glad to see you're healing alright. You really gave us a scare back there, Ace." Said the boy. Ace didn't remember ever introducing himself, though he figured this saved him the trouble.

"Takes more than that to - Agh - kill this clone." Said Ace as he found his way to his feet unsteadily. Silfas seemed to be fluttering around him nervously and it was making him uncomfortable. "Grim, that you?" Ace called, his own loud voice driving nails of pain into his forehead as he grimaced against the glare of the fire.

The dark trooper-shaped entity in front of flames turned in his seat and motioned for him to come over. Ace obliged, not having the energy to resist. Besides, the scent of roasting meat that still buoyed his senses away from his migraine was drawing him in.  
As he approached, Ace's eyes went wide as he noticed the massive, dark shape that appeared to be rotisserieing over the fire. It was bigger than a man and seemed to be somewhere between a raptor and a feline, with an elongated bill lined with serated tooth-analogs. A real ugly sonofabitch.

Silfas led him to a seat, then trotted off somewhere. Ace turned to watch him go to minister to the other two clones that were still unconscious. Was this all that was left? Ace shivered despite the heat of the roaring fire.

Probably reading his expression, Grim explained: "The droids had anticipated us. We were the only survivors." The serious-faced clone's features seemed especially drawn, Ace thought. The dark circles under his eyes had deepened to the point where they gave the impression that Grim hadn't slept in days. Then, considering he had no idea how long he'd been out, Ace realized he just might have.

"Oh." Was all he could say to that. He watched silently as Grim turned the spit and listened to the steady drip-sizzle-drip of grease falling into the fire's bed of hot ash.

"It's a brown Xefter." Grim stated. "Clever beast," he said with the hint of a grin, "but not nearly as blaster-proof on the inside as it was on the outside." 

Ace grunted, trying not to express how impressed he actually was. 

A few moments later Silfas re-appeared and sat on Grim's other side, his young eyes staring into the flames restlessly. "So. I suppose we should come up with some sort of plan?" Said the boy.

Grim turned the small tree he was using as a spit silently for a few seconds, considering this. "Hm. Jack's the one you'll want to talk to if it's plans you're after." He said softly. There was something strange in the way he said it, but Ace just couldn't put his finger on it. "He and Ranger had something in mind for after we'd made our - er- escape."

Ace's eyes flickered to the dimming outline of the crashed ship. He had a pretty good idea of what he would see in there, and decided he had no interest in looking.

"In the mean-time, looks like the Xefter's done." Said Grim, breaking the heavy silence. The clone drew his vibro-blade and started deftly carving thick slices out of the raptor's breast. Practically drooling in anticipation, Ace decided plans could wait until after supper.

\---------------------------

A few hours later, Jack and Dodger had woken up to the sharp noise of vibro-blades shearing through metal. Jack laid there in his cocoon of blankets for a few moments, the last specters of his dream spinning around his head. Looking around, he saw Ace, Grim and Silfas working to pry away one of the Starliner's outer plates that had somewhat-survived their crash. Beside them, big strips of meat appeared to be smoking over a banked campfire.

Closer at hand, someone had left a neatly-folded suit of under-armor on the ground. This puzzled Jack for a moment, then the memories came flooding back. Groaning, he pulled his head under his blankets and decided he never wanted to leave them. He was too embarrassed to even think about looking Grim in the face after way he'd acted...

The memory of his dream-kiss floated through his subconscious, mocking him. He groaned again in the depths of his cocoon. 

However, he realized he had to rejoin the world sooner or later and clumsily stuffed himself into his new under-armor in the privacy of the dark forest. He didn't look as wretched as he had before covered in bruises, but the angry, tender stretchmarks that covered his fat stomach were just as ugly as ever. Chewing his lip, he struggled to pull the under-armor up past his fat ass. 

There were still faint, scrubbed-away bloodstains on the inside, though Jack resolved not to think about where Grim had gotten the suit and tried his best to ignore them. He knew it was Grim who had left the suit because the sides had been taken out - further even than his own suit had been. It bothered Jack to no end that he still didn't fit into the damn thing. 

Once he had re-doned his armor, Jack sauntered up to where the others were now trying to blast holes in the corners of the durasteel plate so they could use it as a sort of sledge.

"Jack!" Cried the boy Jedi, being the first to notice his approach. Silfas bounded over and led him to a seat by the campfire where he pressed some of the unidentified meat into his hands and looked at him expectantly. When all Jack gave him was a blank stare he elaborated: "It's Xefter. Grim killed it while the rest of us were sleeping." 

Jack couldn't help but recall that Xefters were practically impervious to blasters. Then he decided he was better off not knowing the details.

"Ah..." He said. Silfas fidgeted, as if he was uncomfortable without someone to tell him what he should be doing and so was simply trying to help everyone as best he could. "I'm not really hungry."

"Jack, you've got to eat something. We've got a long walk ahead." Jack lifted his head to find Grim standing before him, staring down at him in an infuriatingly understanding way. Jack's cheeks immediately warmed as his dream rose out of his subconscious, unbidden.

"I'm fine, Brother." Said Jack in as even a voice as he could manage. The Jedi was still staring at him with wide, perceptive eyes.

"Silfas, you go finish with Ace." 

Silfas blinked and stared up at Grim with an uncertain look in his eyes, as if he was thinking 'but I'm in command here!'

Grim was having none of it, however, and maintained his patented glare until the Padawan balked and crunched off through the thin layer of snow.

As the Jedi moped away, Grim sat down beside Jack on a thick root, and for a minute or so they both stared at the ruddy coals of the fire in silence. Jack sniffed in the cold.

"So. How're you holding up?" Asked Grim, not removing his eyes from the ashes.

"Better. My arm's only a little sore. It's a miracle, really."

"That's good. Your ribs?"

"Fine."

"Good."

More pregnant silence. Ace cursed from over by the ship and hopped up and down, clutching his foot.

"So you're not gonna eat." Said Grim eventually, broaching the subject. Jack looked down at the leaf-wrapped haunch of Xefter in his hands and sighed.

"I don't want to." He admitted. Grim pulled his knees up to his chest and turned his head to look at him. There was no judgement in his dark eyes, only the shade of guilt.

"I understand. Believe me, I do," said Grim, "but please, at least a little." After a few moments he added: "For me." Jack grinned at the obvious bribe.

"Aagh. You're a real bastard, you know that?" Groaned Jack as he caved and tore off a small bite. He really was hungry, and a little bit of food would do him some good. Jack also had to concede that real meat was much better than any of his imitations.  
"I know, I know." Said Grim, sounding relieved. 

\---------------------------

By the next morning the small party was on their way, with Ace taking first shift pulling the supply-laden sledge using the rappelling lines of two utility belts crossed over his shoulders. They were traveling single-file through a meandering animal-trail that had more switchbacks and sudden drops than a pod-racing circuit.

Taking up the rear position in their convoy, Grim was feeling uncharacteristically optimistic. Now, this may or may not have had something to do with the entire rack of Xefter ribs he'd devoured before the others had gotten up. And the two rations bars he'd eaten while nobody was looking. And the two he'd had for breakfast with the others. He stifled a burp.

"You're looking better today, Grim." Came a small voice from beside him. This little Jedi had a way of popping up unexpectedly, Grim thought, hiding his surprise. He'd have to be careful in the future.

"Yeah. A bit." He conceded, checking the suns' position to make sure they were still on track. Up ahead, Jack, Ace and Dodger were bickering over attack strategies.

"You're pretty strong for a clone, I think." Said Silfas. A hard look stole over Grim's face, but he banished it as quickly as it had appeared. However, he had a feeling it hadn't escaped the boy's notice.

"What makes you say that?" He probed.

Silfas seemed to ponder this for a moment. "Just little things", he said at last. "You're not like the others." Then the boy seemed to realize just what he'd said and snapped his mouth closed.

Grim stiffened slightly, though he didn't break stride. The little Jedi's words had cut through him like a knife.

"Sorry!" Silfas blurted out, perhaps misreading Grim's sudden distress. "Master Bo always said..." his words trailed off into some dark place, but he rallied the sentence admirably. "...Always said I speak without thinking. I beg your forgiveness!"

Grim grunted, rolling his shoulders as if to say he wasn't angry. The boy exhaled in relief.

A few seconds later Grim's head snapped up as the convoy stopped. 

"Hold!" Shouted Dodger from his place at the front of the line, his fist raised in the clone trooper sign for 'don't move'. The sledge slid to a stop about half a second later, turning the silence complete. Grim swallowed nervously as he realized the forest was unnaturally quiet, without even the usual hushed trilling of small insectoid life.

Something was moving in the forest, and despite the orders to hold, Grim unholstered his rifle from its seat across his shoulders. If it was more mining droids, he decided he wouldn't be going down without a fight.

A low rumbling-sliding noise was growing steadily louder, joined by the staccato snapping of twigs and branches.

"How do I stop this thiiiing?!" Came the sudden shout of a clone from just off the trail. An instant later, a gargantuan grey-scaled snake-like monster burst out of the underbrush, across the trail in front of them and into the forest on the other side. There had been the unmistakable form of a clone trooper clinging to its head for dear life.

"Ranger?" Cried Jack from further up the path. Dumbfounded, Grim spurred himself into motion and bounded up to regroup with the others. He was vaguely surprised at how much better he felt having eaten (nearly) to the point of satiation. The hunger he felt now was merely a petulant ghost of its usual self.

As Grim and Silfas reached the others, a rag-tag group of Xelon IV's scaley natives streamed out of the path the giant snake had forged. Most were on foot, but some were mounted on orange tapir-like beasts of burden.

"Clone friend!" Shouted the blue-scaled, waist-high creature in the lead. It's head was practically burried in a trove of metallic beads, bones and even a few Republic credits all netted together to give an impression of a nest.

"Nyark'Thorp?" Asked Jack, incredulously. Grim watched in perplexity as his friend removed his helmet and knelt so he could be at eye-level with the little native. "What are you doing here?"

"Clone friend Ranger beg help." Said Nyark'Thorp a little imperiously. "Use basilisk, track friends. We help." 

Jack took a moment to clear the mask of bemused shock off his face. Grim, however, could read his thoughts as easily as if he'd said them out loud: "Basilisks are real?"

Grim took a moment to peer down the trail of destruction Ranger's mount had carved through the forest. Who'd have thought?

\----------------------------  
After being lead back to the Xelon natives' temporary camp, Grim watched as Ranger was helped down from his saddle at the base of the bassilisk's smooth skull. There were metal plates welded over both of the creature's eyes, presumably to keep it from turning anyone to stone. It seemed like a good-tempered creature, despite its fearsome appearance as it flicked out at Ranger with it's forked tongue almost apologetically.

"It reminds me of you, you know." Said Jack, referring to Grim as he hefted a pile of supply-filled blankets onto his shoulder. They were alone on the edge of the camp's perimeter unloading the sledge, so not even Silfas should be able to overhear them, Grim thought.

"What, we're both just as ugly?" Said Grim, more jokingly than otherwise.

Jack cocked an eyebrow, knowing that Grim was baiting him. "I mean, not nearly as mean as people think they are."

There wasn't really anything Grim could say to that.

"Hey! Sorry for almost running you over, back there." Shouted Ranger as he limped over with the help of a wooden crutch. The stick was in such ragged shape it looked like it had been snapped off a tree and then dragged half-way across the valley.  
"No worries, Brother." Said Jack as he awkwardly embraced the other trooper from under his load of supplies. "We're just glad to have you back."

Grim straightened himself under the burden of his own supplies and was surprised to find his under-armor bunching around his middle, even though his suit had been loose for weeks. Keeping a smile plastered to his face for Ranger's benefit, Grim internally berated himself for being such a pig ever since the crash. It had been nice to live without his constant pain for a little while, but once they had retaken the base, he still fully planned to remain as part of the Grand Army. To do that, he'd have to lose his weight just like the rest of the clones.

Already his hunger was re-awakening, angry at the prospect.

\----------------------------

Once the camp had settled down around a fresh campfire, with the bassilisk's truly massive body coiled around them as a scaley wind-breaker, Ranger outlined his plan.

At first, he had tried to convince the natives that it would be safer for them not to take part in the mission, but the good-natured reptiles remained obstinate. After all, they argued, if the base fell, the Separatists would invade. Then, they'd be at the mercy of pirates again or worse. No, they'd be right behind the clones, whatever they decided to do.

The plan itself was simple, but execution would be tricky. Ranger had already set the Base's main reactor to convert into a massive EMP pulsar which he'd planned to activate remotely once the Starliner had escaped and the drones had invaded the base. However, now the activation would have to be done directly. That meant sneaking into an armed, drone-infested fortress surrounded on all sides by miles of labyrinthine tunnels.

As it turned out, the Xelon natives were good with tunnels. Nyark'Thorp explained this while nodding his head so vigorously Grim was amazed that his headdress didn't rattle itself to pieces.

"So we'll need a distraction." Said Jack, after some consideration. Ranger nodded sombrely.

"I don`t want to put the civilians through anything too dangerous." Said Ranger, referring to the natives.

"The whole situation's damn risky." Said Ace, his arms folded across his chest.

"We fail, more risky." Piped up Halva'Thorp, the chief's daughter. She was a feisty one, and would be next in line to lead the tribe in her father's absence. There was more chittering at her words.

Ranger sighed and re-adjusted his leg in its splint. "The sooner we do this, the better. Separatist warships are probably already on their way. I'm still not sure why they've gone through so much trouble for this particular planet, but I'd rather not find out."

"At dawn, attack best." Advised Nyark'Thorp. "Sun in droid eyes."

As Ranger and Jack nodded in appreciation, Grim just wished he could be of more help. His hunger had rekindled itself over the course of the day and now felt like it was eating him from the inside-out. From the way Jack's eyes would flicker up at him periodically from across the campfire, Grim knew that his pain was probably making itself visible on his face. He just hoped the others would mis-interpret it as worry.

Judging by the alarmed look Silfas was giving him, he wasn't so sure.

Grim's suspicions were confirmed as the bedraggled group was bedding down for the night, the Padawan catching him by surprise as he'd snuck off to have one of the remaining strips of smoked Xefter in the seclusion of the trees.

"Are you alright, Grim?" Silfas asked, startling Grim into making an undignified yelp. Silfas recoiled, "Ah! S-sorry! I didn't mean to-"

"What d'you want?" Grim rounded on the boy, perhaps more menacingly than he'd intended by the way the child's eyes went round.

"I- well I just couldn't help but notice. You seem to be in pain? Is it anything I can help with?" Silfas made his way as best he could through the question, his fingers fidgeting together. "Is it from the crash? You can tell me."

Grim was caught off-guard by the honest desire to help. Silfas really was a good kid, he supposed. Realizing the utili-belt pouch where he'd been hiding the Xefter meat was still open, he clasped it shut.

"I'm fine." Grim stated, then moved to brush past the child.

"You're not." Silfas piped out. "You're not fine and i can feel it."

That stopped Grim in his tracks. He didn't know anything about Jedi, other than exaggerated rumors from other clones. He didn't know how their powers worked beyond what he had seen Silfas do to help Jack and Ace. The idea of this boy trespassing through his mind and feelings did not sit well to say the least.

Grim did not turn around as he spoke, "Stay out of my head, kid." Then he continued on his way back to the camp proper. His stomach roiled at the missed chance at a snack, but he pinned the feeling down with the weight of his anger at being caught in his shameful act.

It's nothing you can fix, he thought sullenly.

Behind him Silfas watched the clone's silhouette rejoin his brothers by the fire, where the one that was called Jack rose to greet him, laughing at some joke that had been told. These men were brothers and Silfas was the outsider here.

The still forest, lit slightly blue by the way the over-bright moonlight refracted off the snow felt very cold to Silfas at that moment.

\----------------------------

Red-pink clouds rolled in from the horizon as the infiltration-group stole through the pre-dawn forests on the edge of the mines. On their bellies, Grim, Jack, Ranger and Halva'Thorp (who had insisted on keeping tabs on them) crawled up to the edge of the cliff leading down into the plasma mines. Beneath his helmet, Grim scowled as he felt his stomach pushing against the fabric of his under-armor. 

His will had broken in the early hours of the night, as the rest of the camp, particularly Silfas, lay sleeping. Before he could stop himself, Grim had made his way through an entire Xefter haunch and at least a dozen rations. At first he'd been blessedly -almost- full. Now he just felt mildly nauseous.

Halva'Thorp was making a nervous clicking-purring noise as she scanned the Southern forests with a pair of electrobinoculars. She was trying to catch a glimpse of the distraction-team.

"Are they in position?" Asked Ranger, his helmet-integrated zoom functions not quite as powerful.

"Think yes," said the girl, "Bassilisk ready."

Even from this distance Grim thought he could make out the way trees seemed to be dancing in the wake of the giant reptile. He remembered how the bassilisk had noticed him binging in the middle of the night and had uncoiled itself to flick its rough, pink tongue at him questioningly. Grim had given it a few strips of jerky which it had seemingly enjoyed, its cave-sized mouth lolling open in pleasure.

An alarmed flock of avians burst from the canopy near where the bassilisk's head presumably was, alerting a few of the patrolling mining droids of their presence.

"Uh oh." Said Jack over the short-range comm.

"Looks like we'll have to improvise a little." Said Ranger as he tightened his utility belt under his armpits and tied the end of his rappelling cord to a sturdy-looking tree. The others, even Halva'Thorp who'd attached a rappelling apparatus to her own leather harness, followed suit and quickly pushed out over the ledge of the cliff. It wouldn't take long for the patrols to return, and their group had to be in position before the real distraction began.

\-------------------------------

The mines themselves were actually pleasantly warm and presently deserted. A sluggish breeze was winding its way through the maze of tunnels and rocky outcroppings, playing on Jack's helmet's audio receptors like a near-subliminal howling.

Halva(as they called her for short) and the rest of her kin had two sets of nostrils: One set at the tip of her snout for good, old-fashioned olfaction and a second one between her eyes that could sense... pathways, for lack of a better word. When he'd asked, she'd explained that it was like how lightning always knew the fastest way to the ground. Except with caves. To be honest he still didn't really understand it.

Nonetheless, as their group huddled behind an alcove of boulders, Halva's second set of nostrils was working busily on the musty air.

"This way." She hissed, and scurried off without warning. Grim quickly propped himself under Ranger's left shoulder and let the injured trooper use him as a crutch as they made their way below the surface.

Within twenty minutes, Grim was breathing hard. Needing a moment to reassess their path, Halva stood on the tips of her prehensile toes with her head tipping this way and that to catch... whatever it was she was trying to sense.

Grim let Ranger down gently on to a boulder and then went over to one of the cave walls to lean against it, propping his other palm on one of his knees. Jack removed his helmet as he trotted over, so they could speak in private.

"Hey, you alright?" He asked, low enough that Ranger wouldn't overhear.

When Grim removed his helmet Jack was surprised to discover he was practically red from exertion. "Do I -pant- look alright?" His tone was menacing, though Jack could tell he was embarrassed. He'd played this game before.

"Come on, Grim. What's wrong? Were you injured?" Asked Jack. Internally he added: 'And too proud to tell us?'

Grim straightened himself with a gust of breath and gave Jack an unreadable stare, still breathing heavily. 

"I'm fine." Grim insisted, and made his way back to where Ranger was sitting. 

"Wait. I'll carry Ranger for the next bit. We can switch off." Jack caught his friend by the elbow and forced Grim to look him in the eyes. It spoke volumes that Grim actually agreed to the arrangement. Something was definitely wrong.

\------------------------------

By the time they'd reached the base of the cliffs that lead to the base, Grim was doing better. However, that didn't mean Jack would stop worrying about him. Halva was grinning in toothy pride for having gotten them there without running into any serious problems and Ranger was busy rooting through his pack for their climbing gear.

"This would be so much easier if you all didn't have to haul my ass through this." Said Ranger bleakly as Grim set him down behind a cluster of oblong rocks.

"Well, since you're the only one who knows how to operate the EMP Core, it's not like we could have left you behind." Jack reminded him, then added for the sake of his pride: "Besides, we're glad to have you." That seemed to brighten Ranger's spirits a bit as he pulled a grappling gun out of his pack. It was the only one they could salvage from the crash.

"Looks like you're up, Grim." Said Ranger, passing him the gun. They'd chosen Grim for this part of the mission because we was the only one who could still fit his utility belt around his waist. Perhaps they'd presumed that meant he was the lightest, thought Jack. He eyed the sheer cliff-face uncertainly.

As Grim accepted the grappling gun, it was obvious to Jack that he shared his trepidation. However, Jack knew his friend would still lay down his life for sake of the mission and, Jack thought ruefully, the sake of keeping his defect hidden.

"See you all at the top." Said Grim non-nonchalantly, though Jack thought he might have heard a quaver in his voice. Then, presumably before his common-sense could kick in, Grim attached the grappling rope to the front of his belt, tugged it twice and then fired up into the haze above them.

\-------------------------------

Luckily for Grim, the grappling gun's motors did most of the work. He just had to hold on tight and kick off the cliff walls periodically. Of course, he also had to keep an eye out for patrolling droids, but so far they'd been almost unreasonably lucky.

The cliff itself was much higher than the gun could span, so every fifty meters or so Grim would hammer (as quietly but firmly as possible) a dura-steel stake into the bedrock of the cliff face. Then, uncoiling part of the mile-long compact-rope from his hip, he threaded it through the stake and let its weighted end fall to his team-mates below. After waiting for the tug on the line that showed they'd gotten the far end, Grim attached himself to the stake he'd just driven in, extracted the grappling hook from the rock and fired it again so he could repeat the process after another fifty meters.

After doing this for the tenth time, Grim was feeling out-of-breath again. It wasn't that his cardio had gotten any worse, it was simply that the massive, midnight meal sitting in his gut was taking up valuable breathing room. He turned off the outgoing transmissions function of his helmet so the others couldn't hear his belabored panting.

Down below, Jack, Ranger and Halva were moving up the line in such a way that only one of them would be putting weight on a stake at any given time.

At the seven-hundredth meter, Grim ran into trouble. A pair of mining droids appeared suddenly out of the billowing smog, seemingly unaware of Grim's presence. They were about fifty meters below his current position, and Grim had stopped moving the moment he'd noticed them. However, Halva would soon be coming up the line, straight into the droid's path.

Cold steel jaws closed on Grim's heart when he realized he'd turned his outgoing comms off. He wouldn't be able to warn her without removing his helmet- a maneuver he couldn't perform one-handed. His other hand was clutching the grip of the grappling gun for dear life, since he was desperately afraid his altered belt wouldn't hold up to his full weight.

His heart thundered in his ears as Grim watched the pair of droids swing down. Already he could feel vibrations coming up the line, from where the spunky Xelon would be emerging from a drifting dust cloud into their line of sight.

Not knowing what else to do, Grim slowly drew his rifle and aimed one-handed.

A few painfully tense seconds dragged by as Grim prepared to fire the moment they noticed her.

Then-

'KRACK-RUMBLERUMBLERUMBLE', The momentous noise split the silence in the pit. It sounded like the distraction team had been a bit over-zealous, or maybe the bassilisk was just having a bit of fun causing its rock slide. Regardless, the two patrol-droids immediately zoomed off to the far-side of the mines just as Halva's little green form appeared below. She gave Grim a little wave. After stowing his rifle again, Grim returned the gesture.

As he hammered in the next stake, a little more thoroughly since the sounds of tumbling rocks and the occasional 'pew' of a laser drowned him out, Grim took a moment to calm his breathing somewhat and then turned his outgoing comm back on.

"Everyone okay. Down there?" He asked, trying to keep the tightness from his voice.

"Ay-Okay." Said Ranger, only a little nervously.

"We lost contact with you for a while there." Came Jack's voice through the comms. "Everything alright?"

"Oh yeah. Just a little. Interference." Grim cursed himself for a liar.

"Roger." Said Jack, clearly not believing a word of it.

The last couple hundred metres of the climb were easy, since the rock turned into a hedge of interlocking durasteel girders that they could have scaled even without equipment. Still, Grim didn't let himself relax until they had dragged Ranger up onto the Base's walkway and secured the line just out of sight in case they needed to make a speedy getaway.

"Sorry. My arms are both numb." Said Ranger, as Jack helped him unclip his utility belt from his chest. During the climb, it had ridden up to the point where Ranger had had to clamp his arms down tightly to avoid the mile-long fall that echoed below him.

The relief they all felt to be on solid ground again was palpable.

Halva sniffed the air while Grim scanned the area for mining-droids, then they made their way into the base via a secret-access hatch.

\--------------------------------------

Now that the clones were on their home-turf, it was only a matter of keeping a variety of escape-routes open at any given time in case they were boxed in by patrols. They traveled slowly and silently, using hand-signs to communicate for fear that the droids might scan onto their close-range frequency.

They made it almost all the way up to the Comm. room before they ran into trouble.

Jack extended his mirror around a bend in the corridor, dredging up a few nostalgic memories. The main doors were guarded by two menacing, red-eyed droids. They hovered passively about a meter off the ground with their mining blasters hanging by their sides, but that could change very quickly.

Carefully withdrawing the mirror, Jack gave the signs for: 'no good' and 'go around'. Halva seemed a little perplexed by this, but judging by the way she was sniffing this way and that, she was already working on finding another path.

'Climb up', 'Comm', 'Source', '?'. Signed Ranger, gesturing to a ventilation duct. Halva understood that last part and nodded vigorously.

The ducts were tight, but they had been designed as a potential escape route or hiding place in case of emergency, so they were big enough. Still, they had to move slowly to avoid clanking around in the metal vents. 

Jack couldn't see Grim's face behind his helmet but he could imagine what he'd see. Something was going on with the bigger clone, and based off how about half of the rations and most of the Xefter had gone missing over the past two days, Jack was afraid to ask. To be fair, it was probably for the best if Grim wasn't distracted by his hunger at a time like this, but... still. Jack could practically feel the bigger clone's embarrassment. Besides, Jack knew why Grim had shut off his outgoing comm earlier and it had almost compromised the mission.

As Grim helped Ranger out of the duct where it opened in the ceiling of the upper technical routing station, Jack was already waist-deep in the poorly color-coded wires that relayed FTL communications both on Republic frequencies and through the intergalactic HoloNet.

"Does anyone else find it suspicious?" Asked Ranger in a low voice, taking off his helmet. 

"Find what suspicious?" Replied Jack from among the wires.

"That we really haven't seen very many droids around. There were thousands before, but between here and the edge of the mines we've seen, what, maybe a dozen?"

Jack had to concede that it was odd, but he'd been trying not to jinx them by remarking on it.

"I've been wondering the same thing." Said Grim, as he replaced the grating over the duct.

There was quiet while they all pondered this and Jack tried to re-connect the HoloNet signal which was by far less damaged than the link to Command. If they could at least get some idea of what was going on offworld, it might give them a few ideas regarding how to proceed.

With an electronic 'pop', a new layer of static started buzzing in the clone's helmet-comms.

'---WAR IS OVER. CHANCELLOR PALPATINE HIS BEEN RESCUED, GENERAL GREIVOUS IS DEAD. ALL CLONES REPORT TO KAMINO FOR PROCESSING.'

At first, they weren't quite sure what they'd heard. Then, as the message began to repeat itself, it finally started to sink in.

Jack extricated himself from the console. Grim removed his helmet and stared down at him with wide eyes. Ranger remained laying awkwardly against the wall, just... listening, and hoping.

"Over." Whispered Jack. Then, he removed his helmet, let it drop to the floor and leaped up to hold Grim in a rib-cracking hug. 

"The war is OVER!" He practically shouted, overcome with emotion. Jack looked into Grim's eyes, where joy was clearly waging its own war with a lifetime of ingrained cynicism.

"It's... over." Said Grim at last, and returned the embrace. 

\------------------------------

Within minutes of receiving the message, the base had been retaken by the skeleton crew of clones and the much more substantial group of Xelons. The bassilisk certainly helped, batting angry mining droids into scrap with a careless flick of its tail or swallowing them whole, lasers and all. After all was said and done, the great beast settled down for a well-earned nap coiled around the top of the base, using one of the mounted turrets as a pillow.

Grim sat alone and looked up at it through one of the base's exterior portholes, not even trying to fight the smile that kept creeping up onto his face. They'd checked and re-checked the message and it was without-a-doubt authentic. An hour earlier, he had watched camera footage of the mining droids lining themselves up in the main hangar in neat little rows, and then powering down for good.

It felt impossible. Like a dream.

(Of course, the clones of Xelon IV would never learn the full extent of the Emperor's plans, or the small part they played in them. They would never learn that across the mid-Rim, hundreds of similar crises had popped up simultaneously to lure Jedi into isolation, leaving the Temple on Courisscant ripe for the taking.)

Now it was just a matter of waiting for Republic troops to come collect them and take them back to Kamino for... whatever awaited clones after the war. Grim had never given it much thought, though he hoped he would still be able to serve the Republic - er- Empire in its new galactic order. Despite all his faults he was a soldier at heart, after all.

Grim turned at the sound of the clicking of trooper footsteps behind him. He would recognize their not-quite-stealthy cadence anywhere.

"We won." Said Grim simply, staring at Jack with a peaceful smile that was at odds with his face. That smile fell away when he saw Jack's expression, however. It was the expression a parent would give their child right before telling them their goldfish was dead.

"Jack, what's wrong? The war is over, isn't it?" Grim continued, moving to his friend and grasping him by both arms. "What is it?"

"Grim." Jack said sadly, his eyes full of uncertainty... 

"...Run away with me."

Grim could only blink, his hands still clasped firmly in place. Slowly, slowly, he withdrew them.

"What?"

"Let's run away. There's nothing for us in the Grand Army now."

"What are you talking about?" Grim backed away. "We're soldiers. What you're suggesting is..." 

Slowly, Jack reached over and flicked off the outgoing comm. function on Grim's helmet.

"Desertion. I know." Jack said firmly, though his eyes flickered around the room in case someone might overhear. 

"Jack..." Grim said, the edge of laughter entering his voice, as if this was some joke in poor taste.

"I'm not joking, Brother. You heard what the message said: Reprocessing. What do you think that means? Do you think we're all going home to receive a medal, with fanfare and an orchestra? Do you think that just because the Separatists are gone they're going to let us go free?" Jack's voice cracked at the last.

"No," said Grim, "I think we'll go home and then... then we'll get sent off somewhere else; fight the good fight." Grim couldn't help but hear the echo of 99's voice in his words. That juvenille optimism, the romance of a soldier before actually experiencing war.

"What good fight?!" Jack hissed, walking past Grim to look out the porthole. He pointed an accusing finger at the sky, his eyes burning. "And against whom? We were bred to be soldiers. Now there is no war, and they're going to process us! Now just what... what the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Jack threw his helmet on the ground where it impacted with a dull 'crack'. The silence that followed was bleak.

"So you're just going to run away, like a coward?" Said Grim eventually, looking Jack in the eyes.

Jack squared his shoulders proudly and gave him a level stare. 

"I wouldn't go without you, though. I wouldn't let you face... whatever it is that's waiting for us on Kamino alone. You know the Jedi Order is gone? I haven't told Silfas yet." Jack paused to compose himself. "The Empire destroyed it, razed the whole place, younglings and all and do you know why?"

Grim returned a look filled with sorrow. "Why."

"Because... they said it was a symbol of times past, of war and decadence. So what do you suppose that makes us?" Jack snatched his helmet up off the ground and turned it in his hands. There was a hairline crack across the visor. He turned it so the mask was facing Grim. "A symbol of a decadent past, Grim. Something to be destroyed in the 'New Order'. Razed to the ground."

Grim turned away from the helmet's cracked gaze. He hadn't known all that. He didn't want to accept it, but Jack wouldn't lie to him about something like this. That, and the transmitted message had been too good to be true. He gritted his teeth in anger, torn between his duty and the survival instincts which had always served him well.

"I will go to Kamino if you want to, Grim. I'll do it for you, even though we'd be going home to die." Said Jack, his voice steady despite the shining in the corners of his eyes.

"Why?" Asked Grim, wondering that same question for what felt like the hundredth time. Why was Jack willing to go so far for his sake? What had he ever done to deserve it?

"I told you... I'm defective." Jack smiled sadly, a single tear trailing down his cheek, across his lips. Jack stepped forward until his face was only inches away. "Do you know how?"

Grim could only stand there, paralyzed by the sudden emotion. Then, tenderly, Jack placed his gloved hand on the back of Grim's neck and stared into the depths of his eyes. Grim felt that he was staring straight into his soul, and it wasn't at all uncomfortable, he realized.

"You are my defect, Grim" Said Jack. "My defect is that I Love You." And with that Jack stole a kiss, just the lightest thing, like the brushing of a snowflake on his lips. 

Grim stood stock-still, surprised further to find that he wasn't repulsed by it. Quite the opposite, actually.

"We have three days until the shuttles come. You have until then to make your decision." Said Jack, before turning and leaving. Even after the doors had 'swif'ed shut behind him, Grim still felt snared in place. Absently, he lifted a hand to his lips, remembering the faint, electric sensation. It tasted salty.

\-------------------------------

The five clones and the Padawan had been unable to sleep in the old dormitories. They had been too quiet, too empty. Instead, they'd spent the nights huddled in their sleeping bags in the cafeteria. Even there, however, old memories plagued them like the ghosts of friends lost.

It had been two days since Grim had last spoken to Jack, and every hour since had been an agony of indecision. His hunger had been bothering him too, but now that they were back in familiar surroundings he was able to but a cap on what he'd let himself eat.

Grim was currently sitting alone up near the top of the base, nestled out of the wind against the Bassilisk's massive head. The great creature didn't make any noise, but when he rubbed the scales under its chin just so, its long tongue would flicker in and out in a contented way that made it seem like it was purring. He fed it a few of the last dried strips of Xefter and sighed heavily.

He had to make a choice tonight.

Grim held his helmet in his lap and was staring at the face of it as if it were a mirror. There on the right cheek was the dent from when he'd been shot with a training laser. There, a stain of soot from the crash, there, a crack and a thin line of what could only be blood, perhaps from when he'd killed the Xefter. It was his history, earned in service to the Grand Army. How could Jack ask him to give up on that?

Finding himself touching his lips, Grim made his hand drop back to his lap and groaned at the sky. The bassilisk turned to see if he was alright, but he soothed it with a pat on the nose and another Xefter strip. Then, hearing his stomach growl jealously, he fed himself one as well.

Then there was the matter of whether or not Jack had been right about the Empire's plans for them. Would they really be going home to die, as his friend seemed so convinced they were? Grim tried to believe that they weren't, but he'd be first to admit that they certainly didn't have all the information. All they had was the message recalling them to Kamino, endlessly looping across all clone frequencies. That, and the startling updates they received through the HoloNet that told of how the Empire was systematically closing its grip on planet after planet. The whole thing gave him a bad feeling. Only how much of that feeling was just him wanting to run away, with Jack or otherwise? Grim didn't know.

A light tapping noise pulled Grim out of his thoughts. Then, from the ladder he'd used to climb up here, the shaggy-haired head of Jack emerged.

"Do you know how long it took me to find you?" The other clone asked, not sounding particularly peeved. When Grim didn't respond with more than a wistful grin he continued: "Though I had a feeling you'd make friends with this scaley brute. You are awfully similar." As Jack climbed up onto the roof he flashed Grim a little, hopeful smile.

"I still don't have an answer for you." Said Grim as Jack settled down cross-legged on the other side of the platform, also leaning on the bassilisk's muscular body.

"That's alright. I'm not here to try to convince you of anything. Just to talk." 

Grim lifted an eyebrow

"Clone's honor." Jack added, placing a hand over his heart. Grim couldn't deny the sincerity in his voice so he sighed and figured there would be no harm in 'just talking'. He passed Jack a few Xefter strips which his friend stared at longingly for a moment, then accepted one with a nod. Clearly Jack was being serious about his weight-loss. Grim only wished he shared that sort of conviction where his own waistline was concerned, considering the way his under-armour had been riding up lately.

At first it seemed as if Jack had nothing to say after all, as they sat in companionable silence staring up at the distant stars, chewing on the tough raptor jerky. It still felt strange being back at the base, like they hadn't really won it back at all. Like they didn't really deserve to be here.

"What do you suppose the point of all this is?" Asked Jack into the night sky, his breath forming a neat little cloud in the humid, chill air.

"What, the war?" 

"That. And... I dunno. Life in general, I suppose. As living beings, aren't we supposed to have some sort of purpose?" Said Jack. Then, sensing what Grim was about to say, he added: "Beyond what the Republic gave us, of course."  
Grim pondered this for a few moments. "I'm sure lots of people would be glad to be given a purpose like ours: To protect and serve."

"True. But isn't the point kind of moot if you don't decide for yourself?"

"Hm. Then I guess to answer your question, it'd depend on who you asked."

"What do you mean?"

"Well," said Grim, patting the wall of scaley muscle behind him. "Suppose you asked this bassilisk what his purpose is, if he could talk. He'd probably tell you it's to eat, breathe and make more little bassilisks."

"Hm." Conceded Jack. "But he's not really sentient."

"No? He had me fooled. What, just because he doesn't tie himself in loops worrying about the future he doesn't classify as an 'intelligent being'?" Grim air-quoted sarcastically.

"Exactly. It's the way you shape your own destiny that qualifies you," said Jack.

"So you think I'm not shaping my own destiny by not deserting with you."

"I never said that." Jack snapped quickly, worried that the conversation was heading into dangerous territory. "Whatever you decide, that can be your purpose. You're as intelligent a man as I've ever met, Grim."

Grim snorted at that and bit off another chunk of Xefter.

"I'm not joking!" Said Jack, adamantly. "If anything, that would qualify me as unintelligent life for leaving my destiny up to you."

Grim's eyes found Jack's. "But you're not, are you. It's your choice to do that, you're just releasing yourself from the burden of it. And the blame. Someday down the line, let's say I do... desert with you, and it's not what we thought it would be. Who's to say you wouldn't hold this against me?"

Jack's mouth flattened into a thin line of disbelief. "I'd never do that, Grim. Though you are right: I've already made my choice."

Grim sighed, his breath turning into a pale column of vapour that was quickly dissipated by the wind.

"Wouldn't it be nice, Grim, to just live by our own rules? Even if it wouldn't be easy, a life of exile would be ours. You wouldn't have to worry about your secret being found out ever again. You could live comfortably." 

Grim knew bait when he saw it, but he still couldn't stop himself from imagining a life where he didn't have to live in constant pain. Of course, the end result of such a decadent lifestyle wouldn't be pretty, though it wasn't like he'd live long enough with his abreviated life-span to have a heart-attack anyways. Oh, but the temptation was sweet.

Perhaps sensing that Grim's resolve was weakening, Jack pushed on. "And you know my secret now, too. You probably also suspect that I... I'm attracted to you the way you are now, and I can't imagine that would change if you were to, um..."  
Grim flashed him a glance that told Jack to quit while he was ahead. Jack promptly changed course.

"...Either way. We could both be happy." Jack finished, now obviously blushing even in the moon's pearly light. His cheeks were practically steaming. 

Grim subdued the flush creeping up onto his own face and started on the last Xefter stick, almost unconsciously. "I don't want you to get the wrong idea." He said, chewing thoughtfully. "I'm still not sure how I feel about this or... you, in 'that way'. Though..."

Jack tried his best not to look like an excited puppy.

"Agh, Fine! Fuck it. What has the Republic ever done for me anyways? A life of secrecy, pain and frustration." Grim threw his jerky over the side of the base. "I still don't believe the other clones are going off to die, but fine. Let's go find our purpose somewhere else, Jack." By the time he was finished, both he and Jack were on their feet. For an instant, Grim got the impression that the other man would like to kiss him again, and more than anything it was the fact that he still wasn't sure how he felt about Jack that made Grim turn away.  
"You won't regret this, Grim. I will make that my new purpose." Said Jack, packing more sincerity into that one sentence than many people ever achieve in whole lifetimes.

Grim responded with a real smile that ensured Jack he would hold him to that promise. 

\---------------------------------

Now that the thing was decided, it was the only actual execution that remained, dangerous as it would be. They were committed. Jack, as the base's Comm. expert had both access to the necessary files and the computer-slicing skills to remove all evidence of his presence in the system. Together, he and Grim had selected a little, out-of-the-way world that seemed to have the basic necessities they would need to survive. Also, to be on the safe side Jack had downloaded all sorts of survival information onto his personal data pad that would help them start a new life.

It was called Eboril, and on the databank image roll it was a little blue-violet ball with teal continents. It had been the site of a massive battle about five thousand years ago, and the detritus that still remained in orbit around the planet would make landing difficult, but also thwarted most orbit-to-ground scanners. Other than its rich vegetation, there was really nothing about Eboril that had ever otherwise attracted the notice of the galactic community. The only shortcoming was that the data made no mention of any sapient species, meaning either they would be in for a nasty surprise upon arrival, or Grim and Jack may never see another intelligent being again.

For Jack, the latter possibility wasn't much of a problem, since he could live with only Grim for company and never feel lonely for the rest of his days. Jack worried, however, that Grim might not feel the same way.

"It doesn't matter how I feel about it. It just matters that we're not found. Besides, I'm tired of humanity anyways." Said Grim early the next morning, once Jack had briefed him on the plan he'd concocted.

"I suppose you're right." Said Jack, rubbing his eyes. He hadn't been able to sleep for his nervousness, but he knew he'd still be able to concentrate when the moment came for action.

It was only a few hours later that the two shuttle convoys appeared as little glimmers on the afternoon horizon. The departure from the base went without pomp or circumstance, though Silfas had gone conspicuously missing. That may have had something to do with the information Jack had left open on the Comm. room terminal when he knew Silfas would have an opportunity to notice it. He couldn't involve the boy in his and Grim's plans, though he couldn't just let the boy be killed after all they'd gone through together.

'Besides', said the scheming part of his mind, 'the hunt for the boy will take everyone's focus off of their own plans'.

The droids manning the shuttles had expected there to be more clones for pick-up (due to the fact that Jack had artfully doctored the data). The pilot-droids that had been sent down to pick them up were confused in the way droids tend to be when circumstances changed too rapidly for their straightforward processing to handle. It was interesting that no clones had been sent after them, though Jack realized they were probably all being 're-processed' on Kamino. Dread landed in Jack's stomach like a cold rock. 

"This is all?" Asked the waist-high piloting drone from beneath it's mushroom-cap-like headgear. It's single optical receptor scanned the otherwise empty base around them. "Where is the Padawan Silfas Malar?"

It was directing its questions to Ace, but Jack answered for him.

"He'll be along soon. Just meditating or something, you know how they can be." Jack smiled at the little droid. Ace and Dodger were helping Ranger onto their shuttle. Grim watched them go with his arms folded tightly, though he did nod when Ranger gave him a quick wave. Grim's features were schooled into an impassive arrangement, though Jack could sense the strain beneath.

"Then I will wait behind for him. Please enter the other transport, troopers 1932665 and 1932713."The droid had begun to ambulate back into the shuttle before Jack moved quickly into its path. It gave him a slightly annoyed head-tilt. "Please move asi-"  
"-Actually, my friend 1932713 and I have some last business with the locals a little ways from here. We don't want to hold the others up, though."

Jack imagined he could hear the droid's processors firing.

"Then I can handle it. Please move asi-"

"-It must be done in person." Jack countered, moving again to block the droid's path. Grim unfolded his arms and started moving towards the vacant shuttle. 

The droid looked from Jack to Grim to the already-closing bay doors of the other shuttle as it prepared for liftoff.

"Very well. Please board the shuttle. It is a priority that all clones are sent to Kamino, but Empirical business with constituent locals must also be conducted smoothly." 

Jack smiled blandly and nodded before turning to march into the shuttle's open hatch. Grim was already standing in the cockpit when he arrived.

"The ship's warp-capable like you said it'd be, but not very fast." Said Grim, his helmet in place but the long-range comms deactivated.

Jack strapped himself into the pilot's chair, donning his own helmet. "Well, it's what we've got to work with, Brother. Let's see if all those flight simulation drills actually paid off." Jack looked pensive as he flipped a few switches. "Also, would you mind taking over the turret systems? There's just one loose end to deal with."

Grim smiled mischievously and swung himself up into the gunner's chair with a grunt.

\----------------------------------

Ranger watched the Xelon IV base disappear behind them silently, his mouth pressed into a thin line. Before this whole mess had started, he really had enjoyed his life there with the other clones. He'd been good at his job as an Intel Spec., but if he was being honest with himself, he'd never really wanted to fight. He hoped that at least now that the war was over, he wouldn't have to. Maybe the Grand Army would be re-configured to keep the peace in the fledgling Empire. However, whatever happened Ranger didn't think anything would be the same as it had been.

Ace was leaning against a window on the far side of the cabin, lost in thought as well, and Dodger was making himself useful up in the cockpit. It was hard to believe that only five of them had survived, and he supposed he 'ought to be grateful... It was just that sometimes at night he would dream Charming was still alive, and they'd be talking about something perfectly ordinary as they made their patrol rounds or some other thing he'd always taken for-granted. Ranger regretted that he had never had the heart to return to the crashed ship and see the body.

Outside, in the cold vacuum of space, Ranger watched the glimmer that was the second shuttle with Grim and Jack fight its way up the planet's gravity well.

"Shuttle 1298 please respond, you are off-course." Came the modulated tones from the pilot-droid in the cockpit. Ranger's eyes tracked the shuttle below them, it looked to be following their trail pretty closely, but he couldn't be sure. Maybe there'd been a malfunction?

(There had, more-or-less. The malfunction was that Pilot 1298 was now a blackish smear on a durasteel landing pad)

"Shuttle 1298, why do you not respond?"

Ranger listened carefully as the droid flicked through different frequencies, filling the ship with the sound of static. Across the room, Ace had also turned to look, settling into the squinting expression that meant he was worried.  
A few more seconds of static, then the pilot picked up their signal.

"Shuttle 1195, his is Clone Trooper 1932665. There was been a problem. The Jedi Silfas Malar attacked us as we were preparing for liftoff. Our pilot was damaged in the attack."

"You did not engage the Jedi?" Asked the droid in a way that sounded almost suspicious to Ranger.

"We -er- decided to escape for the time being. We'll get'im though. After Kamino." This seemed to appease the droid, but now it was Ranger who was getting suspicious. He'd served with Jack for years, and he knew his Brother didn't say 'er' unless he was lying. Why would he lie about that?

Ranger watched as Jack and Grim pulled up next to them, awaiting further orders.

"Very well. Please input the warp coordinates I am sending now. Estimated travel time is 6 hours, 30 minutes and 7 seconds to the next jump stage."

The sound of typing filled the comms as Ranger tried to make out the shapes of the two clones through their shuttle's plexisteel windows. It was no good.

"Alright, see you guys on the other side." Came Jack's voice over the comm. The way he said that only deepened Ranger's seemingly unfounded anxiety. Something was going on.

It wasn't until they emerged from hyperspace 6 hours, 30 minutes and 7 seconds later, alone, that Ranger realized why.

They never came through. They'd deserted.

And all Ranger could bring himself to feel was how much he wished they'd taken him with them.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
END OF BOOK 1


	6. Eboril

START OF BOOK 2  
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As he and Jack dropped out of their fourth erratic jump within the hour, Grim finally began to allow himself to relax. Their shuttle drifted in the blackness of deep space for the time being, as Jack re-checked that he had deactivated all tranceiving devices on their ship, even the hidden ones in case of Separatist espionage. 

After the first jump they had removed and jettisoned their helmets. That was lightyears behind them now, but Grim couldn't help wondering how far away he'd have to get before he stopped feeling like he was still connected to it.

"I can't believe that worked." Said Jack, as he reclined back in the pilot's chair, his armored feet up on the dash and his arm draped over the seat-back.

"You doubted it would?" This was news to Grim.

"No, I just can't believe that it was so... easy. A whole lifetime of service just ended. I never imagined it could be so simple to just walk away." Jack's eyes seemed to be focused on something very far away.

Grim put his own boots up on the dash and chuckled softly. "Me neither. Though, the more I think about it, the more I believe we made the right decision. It's just..."

"Yeah?"

"I just feel like a jerk for leaving Ace, Ranger and Dodger. Not to mention Silfas, though I don't think there's anything we could have done for him now that the Order's gone."

Jack nodded obliquely as they both listened to the humming of the ship. Then, opening a few files on his wrist-mounted data pad, Jack inputted the next series of jump coordinates.

"It's not our problem anymore, Grim. We're our own men, now." Said Jack, soberly. "This will be a new life for us. Besides, maybe on Eboril they will have kittens you can save from trees, if that makes you feel better."

As they made their lurch into the space-between-space, Grim decided that saving kittens would be a nice change of pace.

\--------------------------------

On arrival in orbit around Eboril, the two clones could only look out on the world that would be their home with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. It was a pretty-enough planet, as if some galactic painter had gone to work with a palette of indigos, magentas and teals.

Jack navigated them carefully through the battleship-debris field that orbited the world with only a few close passes with the ancient wrecks. He heard Grim exhale in relief and then inhale in surprise as the surface below them finally came into clear view.  
As they traveled over the nighttime side of the planet, they were greeted by patches of pale, orange-white lights that outlined the planet's seaboards. The official records made no mention of a civilization, but Jack had to admit those reports had been made about two millennia ago. A lot could change in two thousand years, if you let it.

"Doesn't look like they've developed space-flight. That might make things tricky," said Grim from the co-pilot's chair. "You suppose they're humanoid?"

"This might get complicated if they aren't." Jack responded, his chin resting on his gloved fingers pensively.

Grim looked at his friend, a hint of fire blazing in the depths of his eyes. "Good. I'd prefer to keep things interesting." He said with a grin.

Jack had never seen Grim this excited, and found that his feeling of exhilaration in the face of a new adventure was infectious. A broad smile found its way onto Jack's face as he angled their shuttle for an area about fifty clicks outside of one of the smaller settlements, in a latitude that should be sub-boreal, given the planet's gently-tilted axis.

He eased the shuttle into the atmosphere gently, using the mag-lev reverse-thrusters a bit excessively to avoid creating a fiery spectacle for any stargazers below. If they were going to survive here, revealing themselves as extra-terrestrials would be a resoundingly bad idea. 

As they approached the surface, it became clear that they where descending into a sort of farmland. The dark shapes of rectangular fields whipped by below as Grim scanned for a suitable landing spot. The thought crossed Jack's mind that this world might be a bit too inhabited for them to eke out a private living, after all, but when the fields ended and were replaced by a rambling forest, his enthusiasm returned.

"How about on the edge of that lake?" Asked Grim, pointing to a dark oval in the ground a few clicks to Starboard. The larger clone was straining against his crash-harness, trying to see it all. Jack thought he had never seen his friend look so adorable.

"You're the boss." Said Jack amicably as he took them into a sharp landing that only took out a few trees on the edge of the shoreline. "What," he said when Grim gave him a raised eyebrow, "it's building materials." A few lights on the dash were blinking angrily at him, despite his defense.

"Hm," said Grim as he hurriedly undid the clasps of his harness and scanned through the readings they were getting from the atmosphere outside - Temperature, pressure and gas composition all checked out. The gravity was even a bit lower than galactic standard which was nice. "And I'm not the boss. We're in this together, Brother."

As Jack powered down the ship he let the scanners run in search of any droids or life-forms. To his relief, they came back negative. Well, aside from an absolute cacophony of animal signals. Eboril would certainly not be lonely. Meanwhile, Grim was untangling a camo-tarp out of one of the floor-compartments and was ineffectually swiping off about a decade's worth of dust.

"Think it'll still work?" Grim asked, holding up the tatty fabric for inspection. He was cut short when his stomach made a pitiful groaning-growling noise. Grim coughed awkwardly as he went back to untangling the tarp as if he hadn't heard anything.  
"Looks fine to me." Said Jack, playing along. "What do you say we grab some dinner before heading outside, though. I'm starved."

It was obvious, as they settled into the dark cockpit with their ration bars that Grim wasn't going to eat his fill. At least not while Jack himself was daintily munching on his own restricted rations. Even after all the excitement of the past few days, Jack's under-armor was still uncomfortably tight, and he was keen to rectify that situation. Grim, however...

"Please don't starve yourself on my account." Said Jack softly as Grim's hasty munching lapsed into a hungry silence.

"I'm not..." Grim started, but he knew there was no fooling the other clone. He sighed. "Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I'd rather not be such a fat-ass?" He asked, sounding a little dejected. 

"Grim." Jack chided him. "Who is there left to impress? You know I would never judge you."

"But what about me? We're free men now, like you said. Maybe I'd like to get into shape now that I have the opportunity."

Jack had to concede that maybe, just a little, he was letting his own aesthetic preferences get in the way of would be best for his friend. He'd still love Grim if he was slim, of course, it's just that there was something so attractive about his current physique that Jack couldn't help wondering how he'd look even bigger. 

"Then by all means, do whatever you like. After all, it is your body and I can't exactly pressure you after what I've done to my own fat ass." He smiled ruefully, but in his current state of optimism, Jack couldn't bring himself to feel any self-pity.

"I..." Grim continued, and Jack knew what was about to come next. "I suppose another bar wouldn't hurt." Jack smiled guilelessly and handed one to him, and by the time Jack was finished his own meal, he had passed Grim two more. 

\-----------------------------

Over the next several days Grim and Jack worked to disguise their ship and explore the surrounding areas. The smallish lake seemed to mark the center of a forest about ten kilometers in diameter, its ragged edges slowly but surely being eaten away by encroaching farmland. The fields were well tended-to, but the only evidence of a settlement either clone could find was a quaint, white-washed farmhouse that neither of them had been brave enough to approach. The architecture of the place seemed to be designed for beings of human size, but otherwise the style was unfamiliar.

The mystery of how one farmer could work such a huge expanse of land was answered a week later as Grim saw a wide-bodied vehicle smoothly making its way across the fields, harvesting as it went. He had noticed it while out on one of his circuitous morning jogs (a habit he'd decided to keep) and had been astounded to find the tractor was actually levitating as it moved along. Grim was baffled. In all the time they'd been on Eboril, neither he nor Jack had seen as much as a hint of any aircraft, yet the life-forms on this planet obviously had the capacity to do so. One mystery replacing another.

He returned to camp to find Jack cooking two fish-like creatures he'd probably won from the lake. Grim thought the clone looked inordinately pleased with himself as he adjusted his plastisteel chest plate and sat down. Both men were still wearing their trooper armor for lack of any better option, though Grim was honing his tailoring abilities with the help of the files Jack had stored in his data pad. However, he still wasn't sure he would feel at home in anything other than his familiar, white plate. There was something comforting about the armor in the face of such unknown surroundings.

His reasoning told him that eventually they'd have to make an effort to blend in on this planet. That is, once they'd figured out what they were supposed to be blending in to.

As it was, If anyone would have seen them now, they would only have seen a couple of strangely-clad men sitting beside a banked campfire in the woods. The large, oddly-shaped rocky outcropping that loomed over them might seem out of place for an otherwise flat country, but it seemed at home in the dense foliage. Jack also had plans to build a hut from the trees they'd knocked down and the adhesive clay from the lake, as a distraction from the ship in case they were discovered. Possibly also just for something to do.

"You don't think it's strange?" Asked Grim, referring to the hover-tractor as he dug into his fish (by far the larger of the two).

"Of course I think it's strange." Said Jack, looking as if his fish was upsetting him as he bit into it. "I just think it's best if we don't stick our noses into something we're not prepared for."

Grim grunted between mouthfuls to concede the point. He was too hungry to argue right now, as he usually was after his morning exercises. Even so, the look Jack was giving him now told him the clone was not convinced that Grim would keep his curiosity in check.

"It's bad enough that you jog out beyond the treeline in the morning, but just promise me you won't go looking for trouble." Said Jack with sincere concern.

"Jack, are you spying on me?"

"No." Jack answered - a little too quickly, "but I know you, Grim. You won't be satisfied until this mystery is solved."

Grim had to concede that one too, he thought as he swallowed the last of his fish and tossed the bones into the fire. However, even after a meal which would have made any normal clone full to bursting, he wasn't anywhere close to satisfied, and his blasted stomach took the opportunity to remind him by growling noisily. Grim frowned as he saw the corner of Jack's mouth turn up.

"You're a hard man to satisfy in general." Said Jack, turning to rustle in a pack beside him.

"Not that you haven't given it your best shot," said Grim in mock-sadness. "You're spoiling me."

Jack's grin turned into an open smile as he pulled out two ration packs and tossed them to his friend.

"I wish you'd stop." Said Grim without conviction as he unwrapped the first bar, then scowled as Jack laughed lightly at his self-contradiction.

"Maybe it's the fact that you're so impossible to satisfy that makes you so desirable to me." Jack mused, tossing the remains of his own fish into the flames and lacing his bare fingers in his lap. Grim averted his eyes, still not sure how to handle his friend's feelings for him. He just had no idea how to respond to it.

Besides, Grim truly didn't believe anyone could find him desirable in his current condition, so in the end he decided not to respond at all and simply started on his second ration bar.

\-------------------------------

When Jack had told Grim that he hadn't been spying on him he hadn't been entirely lying, since he certainly never watched his friend as he went jogging through the forest. It was only a measure of how well he knew Grim that he'd been able to assume he'd go outside of the forest's security for the sake of curiosity.

Now, however, as Jack lay prone in the tangled indigo brambles that clogged the moonlit shoreline he couldn't help but feel ashamed of himself. His cheeks burned as he imagined the Hell that would break loose if Grim were to discover him here. But oh, the view was worth it.

Grim was standing on the edge of the water, removing his plastisteel boots and arranging them neatly on a rock where the waves wouldn't reach them. He shot a nervous look back to where the campfire was still glowing on the other side of their camoflaged ship - to where Jack was supposed to be doing some research on his holopad. The real Jack bit his lip in anticipation.

Next to come off was the arm-braces and shoulder pads, followed by the chest plates. Jack fidgeted in his hiding place as Grim removed the final piece of his armor and set that aside as well. Jack was a little shocked to discover how much weight his friend had put on in the short month they'd been on Eboril, and apparently Grim was too judging by how he was glaring at his gut with an unveiled hatred that made Jack's heart ache. The gut in question pushed up against the fabric of his suit, even though Jack knew he had only recently let it out again. It seemed like Grim's substantial love-handles and bottom had also grown, though the clone still carried most of his weight out in front of him.

Seeing Grim's pained expression made Jack feel incredibly guilty. On the one hand, it wasn't as if he was forcing Grim to over-eat, but he wasn't exactly helping matters either. Between Grim's private snacking and what Jack kept giving him, they had almost gone through all their remaining rations. With a flicker of amusement, Jack calculated that their supplies had been designed to keep a squad of at least six clones fed for about a month. And that didn't include the game Grim would bring back from his hunting and fishing expeditions.

Jack's attention was pulled back to the figure on the shore as Grim waded into the water until he was in to his navel, and only then began to strip out of his tight under-armor. The soaked garment landed beside Grim's plates with a wet 'slap'.

For a long while Grim merely stood in the chilly water and let it lap around his fat middle; what he was thinking about Jack could only guess. A quiet peacefulness laid itself over the dark lake then, punctuated only by the chirping of insects and the occasional call of some nocturnal creature. 

As Grim finally started washing his head and shoulders, Jack used the opportunity to sneak back to the campfire and prepare a late-night snack. As he did so, the lingering vision of Grim's softening silhouette making him smile giddily.

\---------------------------

If there was one thing the two clones had in abundance now it was time, and Grim spent most of his reading, running or working on his own projects.

Meanwhile, Jack was occupying himself with any and every task he could busy himself with. So much so that Grim was starting to worry such a peaceful life might not be a good fit for the man.

As it was, Jack had cultivated a fish-farm in a netted-off section of the lake, an astounding array of hydroponic plants in the canopies above the ship, and a tanning rack for the larger game Grim often came back with. Then there was the hut that was becoming more and more complicated every time Jack revised it. At this point it had two floors and a balcony.

Grim looked up from his reading as Jack trundled past under an armful of thick branches - a future wall, perhaps?

"Need help there?" He asked with a grin, setting his holo-pad aside. If there was any positive side to his weight it was that he could lift much more than the average clone. Jack raised his eyebrows as if to say 'perish the thought!' but Grim had had enough lounging around for one day. He might as well get some exercise too.

The heavier clone lifted most of the branches out of Jack's hands, grinning cockily.

"Hey, leave me something." Said Jack, snatching back at least one heavy log.

"Oh please, you're wasting away so fast I'm amazed you can carry anything at all." Grim said this without malice. If anything, he was proud of Jack's commitment to his weight-loss. When Jack changed before bed, Grim could see the lines of his waist becoming steadily more angular, his gut more concave. He was finally beginning to look like himself again.

"What? I'm the only one around here who does any heavy lifting." Jack hefted his burden up on his shoulder for emphasis with a suitably manly grunt. Grim chuckled at that, serving only to make Jack's expression more indignant.

"Oh yeah?" With that Grim inserted his shoulder smoothly just below the bend of Jack's legs and clamped his free arm above his knees. Jack yelped as he found himself being lifted onto Grim's shoulder, burden of sticks and all. Grim panted at the sudden tightening of his already-tight utility belt against his abdomen but he wasn't about to be denied by his wretched gut now.

"Agh! Put me down! I'm gonna fall!" Jack shouted as he struggled to keep his balance with the awkwardly-weighted load of sticks. Grim just laughed and started walking with him back towards the ship.

\----------------------------

Serelaas watched the spectacle with wide eyes through her binoculars. The two darkly-coloured men seemed to be performing some sort of strange dance with sticks and acrobatics. She winced as both of them fell over, sending up a shower of twigs.

She had seen enough for today, the girl decided and quietly tucked the binoculars away in the satchel at her hip. Then Serelaas pushed a stray lock of her ivory hair behind her ear and pouted. Every time she came out to observe the bizarre men they only served to perplex her more. How had they gotten here? Should she tell Grandfather about them? They didn't seem to intend to do them harm, but neither had she been able to interact with them to find out for sure. From what she could hear of their shouts now, they weren't even speaking with proper words. It was like they'd filled up regular talk with harsh, clipped consonants.

With an easy gait Serelaas started back through the thick forest, only catching her flowing magenta cloak on a stray bramble once, frowning as a little patch of it was torn out but not willing to stop and risk being spotted. Could be worse, she justified. Last time she had nearly ruined her favorite blue dress when she was forced to dive into a tangle of bushes as one of the strangers had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, jogging down a game trail. She'd had to do quite a bit of explaining to Grandfather when he'd noticed the holes.

The forest ended abruptly and the girl moved quickly among the tall grasses, brushing the tips of her long, pale fingers against the fuzzy, grain-filled tips. On the next hill over their auto-combine was busily harvesting and spitting out neat squares of hay. Despite her peaceful surroundings, however, Serelaas couldn't pull her mind away from the puzzle of the strangers.

"Sere! Pa's been shouting for you!" Raheel's bright voice called out as she approached their homestead. Serelaas gave her twin-brother a conspiratory smile and dropped her satchel against the door frame.

"You tell him where I was?" Serelaas wasn't entirely able to keep a hint of worry out of her whisper. Their Grandfather was a very strict man, and didn't like them straying too far.

Raheel frowned indignantly at her, and she knew he was wrinkling his brow under his curly mop of white hair. Serelaas simply offered him a small grin as she kicked off her thin boots on the welcome mat.

"One of these days you just have to come see them with me, Rah."

"Hmph. And get eaten when they spot us?"

She gave her five-minute-older brother her best 'now you're just being silly' look. "They're not monsters. Just... diff'rent."

A heavy scraping noise greeted the twins as they entered the kitchen, stopping them in their tracks. 

"An' where in Erathyaal's name have you been, Girl?" Their Grandfather, Berelaan, said in an even, deadly tone. His rotund, usually bone-white cheeks had gone a ruddy burgundy. Serelaas noticed the flask of spirits was sitting open on the plaid tablecloth.

Grandfather pushed his chair back further, scraping it loudly again in the sudden silence before he pushed his heavy frame out of it. Then, like an angry cattle-beast he stamped toward the twins, making them cringe away in fear.

"I-I-" Serelaas stammered, her blue eyes wide with sudden terror. 

"I think you know 'sactly where you were. An' don't think I don't..." Grandfather slurred, closing a meaty hand around her arm painfully and pulled a handful of her cloak, exhibiting the new tear in it. Serelaas could hardly think, but she realized at least that her grandfather didn't know exactly where she'd been. How could he? He scarcely ever waddled further than his easy-chair. 

Except when he was drinking, of course.

Berelaan stormed out past them into the living room , dragging Serelaas along behind him by the elbow. She was aware that Raheen was trying to hit Grandfather with his small fists but he kept getting swatted away, no more effective than an annoying insect. Then, Serelaas was forced to focus on not tripping as she was dragged up the stairs, terrified that Grandfather might trip and fall down on top of her.

She was thrown roughly onto the floor of her room as Grandfather barked something unintelligible after her. A thin line of spittle was hanging from his jowls and his little eyes were bloodshot. It had been a long time since Serelaas had seen the normally-lethargic man this worked up, and her young mind couldn't help but think that it was somehow her fault. Now the tears started welling up in the corners of her eyes.

"But Grandfa-"

"No buts, Girl. You'll stay in here til' you learn to heed me. No supper tonight, either." The man growled and slammed the door.

Serelaas huddled there, paralyzed for a long moment. She removed her cloak and ran her thumb over the palm-sized hole as little dark splotches appeared on the fabric, evidence of her angry tears.


End file.
